The Go-Cart Trick
by newtrick
Summary: This fanfic is based on Scott Corbett's wonderful "Trick" series written in the 1960s and 70s. Kerby and his friends enter a go-cart race, only to find that their latest rivals, "The Cheaters' Club", have entered as well! The cheaters will stop at nothing to win, but Kerby has an ace up his sleeve-a magical chemistry set given to him by eccentric old Mrs. Graymalkin.
1. Chapter 1

IT WAS a perfect autumn day. The sun shone brightly in a nearly cloudless sky, and a cool breeze kept the playground from getting too warm. It had been a long, hot summer, and even though it meant returning to school, everybody was relieved that fall had finally arrived.

Kerby crouched confidently at home plate, slowly waving his bat in anticipation of the softball; he was waiting for a nice, fat one to pound into the outfield. But as the first pitch lazily arced toward him, it drifted more and more to the left and crowded him off the plate.

"Ball one!" said the gym teacher, Mr. Wallis.

The second pitch followed the same flight path, making Kerby back out of the batter's box to avoid getting hit. _What's this guy's problem? _he thought. _I know he can pitch straight._

"Ball two!" said Mr. Wallis, apparently not noticing anything unusual about the pitcher's aim, or rather, lack of aim.

The next pitch was just like the first two, but it was also short, landing directly on the pinky toe of Kirby's left foot. It didn't hurt much, but it was a bit annoying.

"Oops," said the pitcher with a chuckle. He had done it on purpose.

Kerby started to jog to first base, since he had been hit by the pitch. _I wish that guy had let me have a good one to hit_, he thought. _Maybe I could've gotten a double, or even a triple, if I had hit it into the gap—_

"Get back here, Maxwell! Where are you running? That was ball three!" Mr. Wallis yelled from behind home plate.

"What?" Kerby demanded. "That ball landed right on my foot! On my little toe!"

"That's not what I saw," said Mr. Wallis. "Now get back behind the plate!"

Fuming, Kerby stormed back to the batter's box. How could the teacher have missed that? Well, he would show everybody, now. He would knock the next pitch all the way into the woods—it'd take a party of explorers to find the ball—

The next pitch came, and this one was right over the plate. Kerby flailed at it wildly...and hit a weak little dribbler that barely made it back to the pitcher's mound. He stared for a second and then took off for first base. The pitcher, grinning, bent down, picked up the ball, and casually tossed it to the first baseman. Kerby was out by a mile.

"Out!" yelled Mr. Wallis, his fist in the air.

Kerby angrily tromped back to the old wooden bench where his teammates sat. A splinter poked him right through the leg of his jeans as he sat down.

"Yow! Darn this old bench, anyway!" he said angrily. "And what's wrong with that pitcher? What's he trying to pull?"

"That's Spivey MacIntyre. He's one of those three new kids who just started at our school this fall. Not the most honorable guy I've ever met," said Fenton.

Fenton Claypool was Kerby's best friend. Taller than Kerby by several inches, with large jug-handle ears, Fenton was not only the smartest kid Kerby knew, but also the most polite. He had been brought up with the _if you don't have anything nice to say, don't say anything at all_ saying drilled in thoroughly by his parents, and calling somebody "not the most honorable guy" was about as close as he could come to a real put-down.

"He was trying to rattle you with those inside pitches, and it worked," Fenton said. "If you'd kept your cool, you could have really smacked that last one."

"I know, I know," said Kerby, kicking at the ground. "But did you see the way he was smirking the whole time? And Mr. Wallis didn't even call him out for hitting me with that pitch!"

"Well, just see if you can control yourself next time you come up to bat. It's all about the power of the mind," Fenton said, tapping himself on the side of the head and smiling.

Kerby never got his second chance, though. The gym class was so big that Mr. Wallis had to have some of the players sit out so everyone would get to play. So while Kerby and Fenton kept the splintery bench warm, they had the chance to watch Spivey's team come to bat and get hit after hit. Even worse, a couple of the other guys on the team seemed to be out to annoy their opponents as well as beat them. One guy was small but really fast, and he had the habit of stepping on infielders' toes as he rounded the bases, always making it look like an accident.

"Taylor VonNewhauer," Fenton said. "His family just moved into that big new house down the block."

Nothing really stood out about Taylor, except his head, which made Kerby think of the top of a scrubbing brush: his short, bristly hair was nearly white, and it stood straight up. Kerby thought briefly that if you picked Taylor up and held him sideways, you could use his head to strip old paint off a barn door. But what he mostly noticed about the boy was his sneakers. They were the fanciest looking pair he had ever seen, and he realized they were probably very expensive.

Kerby turned to Fenton and said, "Hey, are those _Olympics_ he's wearing? Those are the newest shoes at the department store downtown. I saw them when my mom dragged me out shopping last week, and when she saw the price tag, she just shook her head and went 'Hmmph!'"

"Yes, I think so," said Fenton distractedly. He was watching the other team's catcher lumber around the bases after hitting a long drive between the center and right fielders. The boy moved slowly, pounding the ground with feet that seemed to have been attached to tree trunks. Kerby thought he could feel the ground shaking with each step he took.

As the giant middle schooler rounded third base, the throw came in from the outfield and was caught neatly by the second baseman, who turned and fired it to the catcher—the large and formidable "Bumps" Burton.

Bumps was a friend of Kerby's and Fenton's, and a big kid himself. He was nicknamed Bumps due to his clumsiness, and until an incident a couple of years ago when he, Fenton, and Kerby fought off a group of boys misbehaving at the local church pageant, he had been a bully. The experience had brought the boys together, and they even formed a club (with Bumps as the elected president, of course).

As the large boy continued running towards home, it became obvious that there was no way he could beat the throw. Also, Bumps was an intimidating figure guarding the plate, and trying to get past him was not the smartest idea. Any kid with a nickel's worth of common sense would have realized this, put on the brakes, and hustled back to third base, hoping the next batter would get a hit and knock him in. However, the behemoth of a boy kept on running, heading slowly for the plate like some kind of … of … Kerby's imagination failed him.

Suddenly, the boy stopped. He took a good look at Bumps behind the plate, and _charged_. The tree-trunk legs now pounded even harder than before, and this time Kerby was positive he felt the ground shaking. The huge body was moving along at a surprising speed, meaty arms flailing wildly back and forth with each step.

Bumps was no coward. He held the softball tightly, planted his feet apart, bent slightly at the knees, and blocked the plate, ready to make the tag.

"I hope Bumps is careful," said Fenton. "You don't want to get run over by somebody with a name like—"

_BAM!_ Bumps was knocked head over heels and actually performed one and a half backward somersaults before hitting the chain link backstop behind home plate. The ball he had been holding went flying, and the large boy ran across home plate before skidding to a stop, tripping, and falling right on top of him.

"—Bull Clodsky," Fenton finished.

The large boy—Bull, apparently—slowly got off Bumps and joined his teammates on their bench. They hooped and hollered, slapping him on his meaty back. He was none the worse from the collision and was even smiling slightly.

"Come on, Burton, get up!" said Mr. Wallis, who did not seem too concerned that Bumps had just been run over by a twelve-year-old built like a cement truck.

Kerby and Fenton hurried to Bumps' side and helped him stand. He was covered in dirt and wood chips, and Kerby noticed a small cut on Bumps' chin where he must have hit the fence. The three boys made their way back to the bench, Bumps shaking his head groggily.

"Nice hit," he mumbled.

Kerby came home from school that afternoon in a foul mood. Not only was he still mad about the way Spivey, Taylor, and Bull had cheated during the softball game (_and gotten away with it!)_, he had also gotten yelled at for falling asleep during a boring movie in Social Studies and received a ton of homework from Ms. Pease. What a way to start the week!

"C'mere, Waldo!" Kerby called as he came in the front door, feeling the need for some cheering up.

Waldo was Kerby's wiry-haired dog. He was no longer a puppy, but he still had plenty of energy, as well as a tendency for mischief. But even though he sometimes did things he probably shouldn't be doing, like digging up Kerby's mother's flower bed, or chasing Xerxes, the cat of crotchety old Mrs. Pembroke, he was a good dog who loved to greet his master when he came home from school.

Normally, Waldo, at hearing this summons, would immediately drop whatever he was doing and bolt straight at Kerby, leaping up and licking his face, maybe engaging in a friendly wrestling match. But today Kerby did not hear the familiar scrabble of claws on the floor.

Kerby called again. "C'mon, Waldo! I'm home from school! Let's have a little rough-house before I wash up for supper, what do you say?"

Still nothing. Kerby set down his school books on the kitchen table and started for the hallway to look for Waldo, when he heard a polite _tik-tik-tik-tik_ coming from the family room.

"I hear you, boy! Come on, are you trying to sneak up on me, or _whaaa—?_"

Waldo had come into the hallway, smiled proudly, and sat down. He lolled his head stupidly at Kerby, his tongue hanging out of the side of his mouth. His normally unkempt hair had been neatly combed, and tied around his head was – no, it couldn't be – a huge, floppy red bow!

"Oh gosh, no!" Kerby said. "This could only mean one thing!"

"Kerby, dear, I meant to tell you," his mother's voice came from the kitchen. "Your cousin Gay is staying with us for a few days. Isn't that nice?"

Kerby groaned. It was going to be a long week.


	2. Chapter 2

THE NEXT day, a Saturday, started quietly as Kerby crept out of bed before his parents woke up. He went downstairs, fed Waldo, and grabbed a couple of pieces of toast for himself, trying to be as quiet as possible. It was unusual for Kerby to make this little noise in the morning, and Waldo felt that something secret was going on. He went right along with it, feeling like he was a mysterious secret agent dog. When Kerby opened the front door, Waldo didn't bolt out as he usually did, announcing his presence to the world (and Xerxes the cat); he practically tip-toed out. Boy and dog quietly proceeded across the yard, pushed aside the loose board in the fence, and entered the vacant lot where the clubhouse waited.

Kerby had good reason for the early and quiet departure. He didn't want to have to drag Gay along.

Kerby's cousin Gay was a young girl with a perpetually sunny disposition who stayed with Kerby's family from time to time when her parents were busy. She wasn't too bad a kid, Kerby admitted reluctantly to himself; she had been involved with a number of Kerby's adventures and been pretty amazing. Gay was quick and brave, and she had a way of thinking of a bright idea just when it was needed most. This was all well and good, but when Kerby was "in a mood," as his mother put it, Gay's cheerfulness was downright maddening. She also tagged along a lot, wanting to be with Kerby and his friends, when Kerby thought she should be spending time with kids her own age.

But the absolute worst thing about Gay's visits was the way that Waldo acted around her. She thought Waldo was "just the cutest thing ever," and Waldo ate it right up. All of the boyish playfulness Kerby had taught Waldo over the years seemed to disappear in about two seconds when Gay started ooh-ing and aah-ing at him. She treated Waldo like a baby sister, and she even tried to dress him up like one of her dolls. And when she tied that ridiculous bow on him, it was just plain sickening!

So that's why Kerby had snuck out: he didn't want Gay to hear, because she would have followed along, and he didn't want his parents to hear, because they would have made him bring her along.

Kerby crept into the clubhouse, where Fenton and Bumps were already seated on orange crates. Bumps was talking about the three new boys at school, his irritation apparent in his voice. Kerby noticed the cut on Bumps' chin had not been covered up; there was no way he would have accepted a bandage for such a small injury, especially since it probably would have given Bull Clodsky something to gloat about.

"...and did you see the way that Bull guy ran into me at home plate? What a cheap shot! And then he had the nerve to _fall_ on me afterwards and pretend it was an accident!"

"Definitely not the most honorable trio, are they?" said Fenton, once again showing his politeness.

Kerby spoke up. "And that Spivey guy! I can't believe him! Crowding me off the plate like that..."

"All I can say is, those guys better watch it, or all of them are gonna get their noses twisted," said Bumps. "I wonder how Taylor VonNewhauer would look breathing upside down? Maybe it'd push his hair even straighter up."

The discussion was suddenly interrupted by a loud banging from outside the clubhouse. It sounded like a huge pile of wood falling off a truck. The boys jumped up and rushed outside.

"What's going on out here—hey, it's Red Blake!" Kerby said.

On the opposite side of the vacant lot in which the boys had built their clubhouse, there was a flurry of activity. Red Blake, easily identifiable from fifty feet away by his flaming red hair, was giving orders to Eddie Mumford and Pinky Marshall, who were struggling with some pieces from a large pile of lumber. A grey pickup truck was driving away, having apparently dropped off the wood.

Red and his gang of friends were rivals of Kerby's friends, and they often tried to one-up them in the many neighborhood games the kids played. And now, they were on hallowed ground—the vacant lot—doing something that looked suspiciously like building!

Red saw them gawking and said in a mock friendly voice, "Hey, guys! Nice day for a little construction work, eh?"

"What are you goofs working on?" demanded Bumps.

"We're building our own clubhouse, and it's gonna be a _ton_ better'n yours! It's gonna be huge, and I bet it won't fall over if a little breeze comes by," Red answered smugly.

He was referring to the boys' old clubhouse, which had been knocked over during a fight last year. Of course, the boys had rebuilt the clubhouse, and it was considerably sturdier now. But they still felt the insult.

Red continued, "Old Man Carmody won't be back for another ten years, I bet. So we figured this old vacant lot is fair game for anyone with the proper building materials." He patted the pile of fresh new lumber with a grin.

Fenton, silent until now, stepped forward.

"Where did you guys get the wood from?" he asked calmly. "That looks brand new."

"My Dad gave it to us," said Red.

"Oh, that's right – he works in construction, doesn't he?" Fenton said. "Must be left over from a project. Well, it looks really good. Good luck with the clubhouse." And he turned and walked back toward their own clubhouse, motioning for Kerby and Bumps to follow him, who were so dumbfounded by Fenton's response that they offered no resistance.

"Fenton, are you off your rocker or something?" said Bumps, when they were all seated again. "I know you're polite and all, but..."

"Yeah, you gotta draw the line somewhere, Fenton," said Kerby. "You sounded like – like a _grown-up_, the way you were talking to them!"

"Look, guys, we've been having problems with Red and his friends a long time. What's the point of it all, anyway? We fight over this, we threaten each other about that, but why?"

"That's easy," Bumps said. "They're jerks."

"And besides," added Kerby, "they're ... umm …"

"Uh-huh," said Fenton. "I just figured that we might all be happier if we could find some way to get along with them."

"Get along with Red and his clowns? Ha! A snowball in July'd have a better chance than that," said Bumps.

Kerby couldn't think of anything to say. Like Bumps, he was ready to expect the worst from Red and his gang. The idea of actually getting along with them seemed unlikely.

"Bumps, I'm not saying we should just let them do whatever they want to us. I just thought that by not returning their aggression, we might make things better. We don't have to be best buddies with them, just tolerate them. They're not that different from us, anyway."

Bumps looked at Fenton like he was from another planet.

"I don't know if you've been out in the sun too much or what, Fenton," said Bumps. "But I just don't get you."

"Well, let's not worry about it for now," said Fenton. There's a much more important thing to think about. Look at this."

Fenton pulled a folded piece of paper from his back pocket. He opened it, smoothed it out on his lap, and turned it towards Kerby and Bumps to read. It was an article from yesterday's _Gazette_, the local newspaper:

_MIDDLETON TO HOLD GO-CART RACE_

_The Village of Middleton will be holding its first annual go-cart race on Saturday, September 12. Children of all ages are welcome to enter their own self built carts in the race, which will take place at Peterson Park. First prize will be $75 cash. The event will be sponsored by Middleton Rotary... _

All thoughts of Red Blake were forgotten as the boys read the rest of the article, which covered the rules and other information.

"Now _this_ is worth focusing our attention on!" said Fenton.

"No kiddin'!" said Bumps.

"Yeah!" said Kerby. "We're gonna build the coolest, fastest go-cart ever and win that race!"

The boys were so wrapped up in discussing the go-cart they would be building – the materials they would use for it, how fast it would be, how the steering should work, how cool it would be, how it would be the best go-cart _ever_—that they didn't notice the quiet approach of a girl with a perpetually sunny disposition outside their clubhouse. They didn't notice as she stood there listening with her head tilted to one side, one braid swinging back and forth, a small smile on her face.

"A go-cart race, hmmm?" Gay murmured to herself. "Sounds like fun …"


	3. Chapter 3

KERBY HAD gotten permission from his father to borrow some tools for working in the go-cart. He was a bit surprised, actually, since usually Mr. Maxwell was very strict about anyone else using his tools; but once Kerby told him about what he and his friends would be building, his father had become excited and very supportive.

"Back when I was a boy—" he began. Kerby suppressed a flinch, remembering the number of times his father had begun stories in that manner. Usually the stories described the incredible hardships his father had endured as a youth and were intended to teach Kerby a lesson about how easy things were for kids today. But this time was different. Instead of the customarily solemn expression accompanying these stories, Mr. Maxwell's face was lit up with an almost boyish enthusiasm.

"We used to make go-carts all the time. We'd push them around the neighborhood, up and down hills, all over the place. We also used to have races with other kids, and it was tons of fun. Of course, back then, we called them soap box racers."

"Soap box racers?" asked Kerby. "What's a soap box? I know sometimes we get soap that comes in a little cardboard box. Did you glue a bunch of them together and make a car of that?"

"No, no," his father chuckled. "Soap was delivered from the soap manufacturers to stores in these wooden crates about this big," he said, holding his hands a few feet apart. "When a store had taken the soap bars out of the box and put them on the shelves to sell, they just threw away the box. The store managers were usually glad to give them to us kids, since it meant less garbage to be picked up. So we'd take a box home, hammer it to a couple of boards, add some wheels, and we'd have our racer."

"Huh," said Kerby. "That's pretty cool. Do they still have soap boxes?"

"I don't think so. They usually pack everything in plastic wrap or cardboard boxes nowadays. I don't think that would be too helpful for making a go-cart. Besides, I think your go-cart will be a lot bigger than the soap box racers we made, which weren't much more than a box on a skate board. Do you remember what the contest rules said?"

"Yes, sir," Kerby said. "Each go-cart has to be big enough for three riders. I imagine ours will have to be more like a bathtub shape."

"I think you're right," Mr. Maxwell said. "You sure you don't want any help building it?"

Kerby couldn't help but notice the hopeful look on his father's face. Mr. Maxwell clearly wanted to get in on the fun.

"Thanks, Dad, but do _you _remember what the contest rules said?" said Kerby with a grin. "Only the racers themselves can build the go-cart."

"I know, I know," said Mr. Maxwell, a bit sheepishly. "Well, have fun."

So Kerby, carrying a toolbox containing a hammer, some nails, and a saw, made his way to the clubhouse. Bumps was already there, and Fenton was just trotting up.

Bumps gestured to a pile of wood balanced precariously in a red wagon. "Take a look at this. Red's not the only one who can find wood. This was left over from the stuff Mr. Carmody gave us to rebuild our clubhouse last year. I knew there was a good reason to keep it!"

"Excellent, Bumps!" said Fenton. He held up a manila folder with several sheets of paper inside. "I've put together some preliminary plans for the go-cart. I've been doing some research on aerodynamics, and—"

"Ardio-manics? What the heck is that?" Bumps asked.

"_Aerodynamics_, Bumps. It's the study of how air flows around things. Planes, cars, and anything that moves can go a lot faster if the aerodynamic principles are closely followed in the design," Fenton said.

"Well, I didn't really understand nothin' in that last sentence except for the word 'faster'. But if this andio – ardio – whatever it's called – can help us win this race, I'm all for it," said Bumps.

Kerby was getting excited. "So, let's start building!" he said enthusiastically, holding up a hammer in one hand and a saw in the other.

"Yes, let's," said Fenton. "According to the rules, we need to have the entry form in at the village hall by Wednesday."

The boys got to work. Following Fenton's carefully drawn plans, they measured, sawed, hammered, and nailed, until the basic framework of the go-cart was built.

The go-cart wound up being about six feet long and two and a half feet wide. The body was shaped somewhat like a narrow bathtub, but with a pointed front end. Inside were three boards running perpendicular to the length of the car, to be used as seats. There was another board at the front of the car and one in the back, which were for the wheels.

Fenton was extremely proud of the steering mechanism he had devised. Where most go-carts simply had a length of clothesline strung between the ends of the front axle, the boys' go-cart had an actual steering wheel. It was connected to a wooden dowel extending to the front of the frame, where a sturdy gear was attached. The gear fit neatly into another gear attached to the front axle, so when the steering wheel was turned left or right, the motion was transferred to the axle, pointing the wheels in the same direction.

"It's perfect!" he said. "A real steering wheel! Man, this go-cart is incredible. We should win the race on style points alone!"

"Yeah!" Kerby agreed.

"Yeah…but you know what else it could use?" Bumps said. "To make it even more ardio-manic?"

"Um…what, Bumps?" Fenton said. He was concerned Bumps would make some suggestion that would throw off his careful design.

"Wings! And a spoiler!" Bumps said triumphantly. "Can you imagine how fast it will go if we add wings and a spoiler? It'll be like an airplane and a sports car combined!"

"Well – "

"Sure! It'll be swell!" Bumps insisted. "Let's get started on them right away!" And with that, he grabbed another long, thin plank and began sawing.

"I'm not sure that'll improve the aerodynamics of the go-cart…" Fenton protested.

"Now, come on!" Bumps said, the first trace of anger appearing in his voice. "Fenton, we used all of your ideas so far, so it's only fair that Kerby and I should get to use our ideas, too. Am I right, or what?" he said, looking hard at Kerby.

"Um, I don't have any extra ideas," Kerby said. He saw both sides of the situation. On one hand, he knew that anything not in Fenton's plans would probably not help the go-cart go any faster, and it might actually make it go _slower_. On the other hand, Bumps was already getting angry, and an angry Bumps Burton was never a good thing. Besides, Kerby thought wings and a spoiler might actually look cool.

Fenton did not seem at all pleased, but he controlled himself. "Fine, Bumps. You figure out what you want to add and we'll put it in. Say, what color do you think we should paint the go-cart?"

At the mention of paint, Kerby was reminded of Gay, who loved painting and everything related to art. He suddenly realized that the whole time they had been working, Gay had not come by to bother them at all. That was not like her at all; she usually had to be shooed away if Kerby was doing anything interesting.

"Where is she, anyway?" Kerby said.

Fenton and Bumps just looked at him. They had just asked him whether he thought blue or red would look better as the main color of the go-cart.

"Huh?"

Meanwhile, Gay had for once found somewhere else to be. A few hours earlier, she had set out to find Kerby and see what he was up to. Wandering along the sidewalk, she came across a red-haired girl playing hopscotch. The girl appeared to be just about Gay's age.

"Hi! How are you? My name's Gay. What's yours?" she asked cheerfully. Her naturally friendly personality made meeting people easy.

"My name's Rita. Nice to meet you. Would you like to play hopscotch with me?"

"Sure, thanks!" Gay said brightly, and just like that, the girls were friends.

They played hopscotch for a while, and then they decided to go to Rita's house, which was just down the block from the Maxwells'. They played with Rita's dolls and dress-up things, and they joked and laughed.

"Say, Gay—do you want to see my books?" Rita said.

"Sure," said Gay.

Rita, as it turned out, had dozens of books on neat wooden shelves in her room. Gay loved reading, so she was interested to see the kinds of books her new friend enjoyed. There were plenty of story books, some books about nature, and a few picture books ("I don't read those any more," Rita said. "They're too easy.").

But what really caught Gay's eye was the incredible number of books about science. Every science subject Gay could think of – plus several she'd never even heard of – was on the shelf. Astronomy, Biology, Chemistry, Geology, Physics … the titles went on and on.

"Have you actually read all of these?" Gay asked in amazement.

"Pretty much," said Rita. "Some of them are kind of hard to understand, but they're so interesting to me that I just keep re-reading them, trying to understand a little bit more each time. And sometimes when I have questions, I ask my parents or my teachers, and they can usually explain what the book's saying. My latest favorite subject is aerodynamics, which is the study of how air flows around things. It's really important for making airplanes that can fly and cars that can go fast."

"Cars that go fast, huh?" said Gay thoughtfully. "Rita, I have an idea for you. Have you heard about the go-cart race next weekend?"

"Sure. My brother Red is entering with two of his friends."

Gay smiled. "Really? So is my cousin Kerby! Well, what do you say we build a go-cart of our own and enter?"

Rita stood up, looked thoughtfully at her bookshelf, and slowly pulled out her newest book, _Introduction to Aerodynamics_. She flipped through the pages, nodding to herself as she scanned the chapters. After a minute or two, she snapped the book closed and grinned.

"Gay," she said, "I think that's a wonderful idea!"

The next hour was spent busily designing their go-cart. The two girls worked well together, and Gay's artistic sense beautifully complemented Rita's surprisingly thorough knowledge of aerodynamics. With equal input from each, they arrived at an elegant design which, Rita said, had a good chance of winning the race.

"Of course, designing it is the easy part," Rita continued, "but actually building this go-cart might be hard. I think my dad will let us have whatever is left over from Red's supplies, and I can hammer and saw a bit, but – when did you say the race is?"

"Next Saturday," said Gay.

"Well, it'll probably take all of our afternoons this week to get it built," Rita said. "But it'll be worth it. We're going to win this race!"

The girls shook hands confidently, and, after saying goodbye, Gay skipped merrily back to the Maxwells', where dinner would soon be on the table.


	4. Chapter 4

THE NEXT day was cool and drizzly. It felt like a Monday, which it actually was. Kerby and Fenton were walking to school, discussing what Kerby had learned from Gay the previous evening.

"How can she be friends with The Enemy?" Kerby said for the third time. "I just don't see how she can actually be at his house and hanging out with them."

"So she's made a new friend," said Fenton. "Don't worry about it. It sounds as though Rita is a nice kid, and remember, you're always talking about how she should be spending more time with kids her own age."

"Yeah, that's great, but Rita's Red's sister!"

"So? I really think we should forget about the whole '_us versus them_' mentality. We've got better things to think about, like the go-cart race."

"And that's other thing," said Kerby. "Those copycats are going to be in the race, too. It's bad enough that they're building their own clubhouse, _right in our vacant lot_, but do they have to enter the race, too?"

"Try not to worry about it," Fenton said with a smile. "Anyway, shouldn't you be getting mentally prepared for your math test?"

Fenton had been helping Kerby with his studies this fall, because even though Kerby was able to get all of his homework done without too much trouble, he always seemed to have a hard time on tests. He would get all nervous and seem to forget everything he had learned, and as a result, his marks were never as high as they should be. Fenton had been working with him on relaxing and focusing his mind, and it was actually helping a bit: his scores on the last couple of quizzes had been better than usual.

"Okay, okay," Kerby muttered. "But it just bugs me..."

The math test did not go well. Kerby kept trying to focus on the problems on the paper in front of him, but his mind kept drifting back to Gay's friendship with Red's sister, the idea of Red's gang building a clubhouse, and the idea that Kerby and his friends would now be competing against Red and his friends in the go-cart race. He found himself staring at the same problem for several minutes, and when he glanced up to check the clock, Kerby noticed yet another distraction.

Spivey MacIntyre, seated at the leftmost desk of the second row, was casually looking at Pamela Parr's test paper! Her desk was right next to his, and since she was a righty and he was a lefty, he had a perfect view. Pamela was easily the smartest kid in the classroom, and Spivey was blatantly copying her answers onto his own test!

Kerby was furious. He wasn't the best student ever, but his parents had taught him the importance of honesty, and Mrs. Weber, the math teacher, had told everyone on the first day of school that she would tolerate absolutely no cheating in her classroom. To see somebody so boldly breaking the rules like this was simply shocking, and he found himself staring dumbly at Spivey's cheating.

"Eyes on your own paper, Kerby," Mrs. Weber warned, as she walked between the desks and saw Kerby gawking at Spivey.

There was a sudden murmuring from the class as most of the other students quickly turned to look at Kerby. Their looks of surprise and shock brought a fierce blush of embarrassment to Kerby's cheeks and his mouth went dry. He wanted to shout, "It wasn't me, it was Spivey!" at the top of his lungs, but his own shock (and reluctance to be seen as a snitch) left him tongue-tied. He opened and closed his mouth several times without uttering a word, realizing all the while what a goof he looked like.

As Kerby looked back down at his test, he just barely heard the chuckling "Oops!" from Spivey's seat. Kerby didn't bother looking up.

Kerby felt slightly better at lunch when he found that Fenton and Bumps had been through similar situations that morning.

"You should'a seen 'im!" Bumps grumbled. "I tried to get to Reading class early today, since Mrs. Silver told me off for being late the last coupla times. So I show up nice and early, and who's already in the room, all by himself? Bull Clodsky was, that's who. And you know what he was doing? Reading the answers from the teacher's book! That sneak, he knew she'd be asking us questions about this stupid story we were supposed to read, and he read them right before class!"

"What a cheater!" Kerby said.

"Yeah, and I didn't even figure it out until Mrs. Silver started asking questions about the story. I knew he was up to something when I came in the room, sorta startling him. He looked up from her desk real quick-like, and slammed the book shut like he was just caught doin' something he shouldn't've. When he saw it was me and not Mrs. Silver, he just stared at me like a big dumb ol' ox and sat down at his desk.

"Then, when class starts and Mrs. Silver starts asking questions about the story, Bull raises his hand for every one! And all of his answers sounded just like a grownup talking, because he just repeated what he read from her teacher's edition!"

Fenton looked disgusted. "Go on," he said with a frown.

"Mrs. Silver was so _proud_ of him," Bumps continued. "She said, 'Oh, Barnaby, you've simply _mastered_ this material.'"

"_Barnaby?_" Kerby and Fenton said together.

"Yeah, I guess that's his real name. I don't blame him for having a nickname."

Kerby and Fenton both suddenly realized that "Bumps" probably wasn't their friend's real name, either, and that they actually had no idea what it was.

_How odd_, Fenton thought.

"Anyway," Bumps continued, "after all that, I tried answering the next question myself, and I got it wrong, because I didn't understand that part of the story—but I read it, I swear!—and right after that, Clodsky puts up his meat hand and answers right again. I couldn't believe it!"

"Well, fellows, it looks like the 'Cheaters' Club' got to all of us," Fenton said.

"What happened to you?" Kerby asked.

"Taylor VonNewhauer is in my Science class," Fenton said. "We were doing a chemistry experiment. It involved a great deal of careful measurement of the various reagents, and Taylor was just slopping them around. He could have caused an accident! And when the experiment called for us to stir this mixture and record how long it took to change color, he didn't even do it. He just wrote down some random number and then poured his beaker down the drain so nobody would see that he hadn't even taken the time to properly complete the experiment! And when old Mr. Fisher came around to check everyone's work, he was _so impressed_ with Taylor. 'Ah, my boy, well done! Such quick and efficient work. The rest of us could take a lesson from you, couldn't we, Mister Claypool?'"

Fenton was clearly and uncharacteristically angry. He never raised his voice, and for him to do so now was somewhat startling. He always kept his cool, and nothing seemed to bother him. Kerby realized that maybe Fenton was finally upset because, while the things that usually got Bumps and him riled up were sports, the rivalry with Red's gang, and stuff like that, this was about SCIENCE, which Fenton all but worshipped. The idea of somebody slopping his way through an experiment and actually falsifying results was practically sacrilege to him.

The boys went on for a while, discussing the injustices of the Cheaters' Club, as they were now officially known, then suddenly realized that they had been talking so intently that they hadn't noticed all of the other students leaving the lunchroom to go out to the playground. They got up from their table and headed outside.

A game of touch football had already started up among some boys. Kerby, Fenton, and Bumps started toward the group to join in, but they all stopped short when they saw who was playing. On one team were the boys they had just been talking about: the Cheaters' Club. On the other team, their former favorite rivals: Red Blake, Eddie Mumford, and Pinky Marshall.

Intrigued by this matchup of "bad guys versus bad guys", Kerby and his friends watched the game with interest. It seemed to be going in favor of Red and his friends first, as they moved the ball down the field quickly and scored a touchdown. But when Spivey's team got the ball, things took a turn for the worse. Bull hiked the ball to Spivey, who handed off to Taylor, who then took off like lightning, with Bull lumbering along at his side.

Red was actually a fast runner himself, even though he was almost as big as Bumps. But Taylor was even quicker, and as Red accelerated to catch him, he found himself blocked by Bull, whose meaty arms swung crazily back and forth as he ran. Red put on a desperate burst of speed and tried to cut around Bull, but one of Bull's elbows got him in the ribs. Red grabbed his side in pain as Taylor zoomed into the end zone for a touchdown, his fancy _Olympics_ flashing in the sunlight.

Red slowed to a walk, glaring at Taylor and Bull in frustration. He opened his mouth to say something to them when suddenly there was a BAM! as Spivey, coming up from behind Red, ran into and right over him! Kerby, Fenton, and Bumps all jumped as Red went down.

"Hey!" shouted Pinky Marshall and Eddie Mumford, finally catching up to Red.

"Oops," said Spivey with a grin, continuing to run after Bull and Taylor.

Red, a tough enough kid to not start crying just because he'd been knocked down, rolled to his feet and yelled at Spivey, "Hey! You looking to get your block knocked off? What kind of cheap shot was that?"

But just then, the school bell rang, signaling the end of recess, and Taylor, Bull, and Spivey ran off toward the school doors. Red, Eddie, and Pinky, realizing that they couldn't catch up, started to slowly walk back themselves, heading toward Kerby, Fenton, and Bumps.

"...and who knows what those cheaters will do in the go-cart race," Red was saying.

_Omigosh_, thought Kerby. The Cheaters' Club was going to be in the race, too? If they were already so terrible in the classroom and at recess, what kind of stunts would they pull in a race, with a big cash prize involved?

"Excuse me, Red," said Fenton politely. "Did you say they were going to enter the go-cart race?"

Red glanced up and saw Kerby and his friends standing there. He paused a moment then said, "Yeah."

Fenton went on, "Well, we're going to be entering, too, and—"

"Yeah, my sister told me. She's been hanging out with Kerby's cousin."

"Yeah," said Kerby, not quite sure what else to say.

Fenton said, "We saw what Spivey did to you, there."

"It was nothin'. I wasn't hurt."

"Well, still, it wasn't fair. And those guys have been cheating in _everything_ since the school year began. We're concerned that they might pull some of that stuff during the go-cart race."

"They don't scare us!" blurted Pinky Marshall.

"Yeah! We'll cream 'em!" said Eddie Mumford.

"They don't stand a chance!" said Red.

"We're not worried about them either," said Bumps.

Although it felt a bit odd to be having a conversation with Red and his friends, Kerby joined in. "Yeah, we aren't, either."

Fenton looked around at all of them. "I know we haven't always gotten along, but it looks as though we have a common enemy here. What do you say we just sort of watch each other's back? Make it harder for them to cheat?"

The others slowly nodded.

"Yeah, well, we'll see you guys later," said Red, motioning for his friends to follow. Kerby, Bumps, and Fenton waited a moment, then went back into the school.

Kerby and Fenton had their next class, Social Studies, together. Bumps went off in the other direction, heading off to Math.

"I'm not so sure we can trust those guys," said Kerby.

"I know, but you have to start somewhere," said Fenton. "I just want to make sure we have a fair chance in this race."

"Just because they're _maybe_ gonna watch out for us doesn't mean that the Cheaters' Club won't be able to pull a fast one."

"I know, but do you have any other ideas?" said Fenton. "What else can we do in a situation like this?"

Both boys suddenly stopped. Grins slowly appeared on each of their faces. Then, at the same time, they shouted, "Let's go talk to Mrs. Graymalkin!"


	5. Chapter 5

KERBY AND Fenton waited about an hour after they had arrived home from school, then set off for the park together in hopes of catching Mrs. Graymalkin taking her afternoon walk, or "constitutional", as she called it. Waldo tagged along cheerfully.

Mrs. Graymalkin had been the boys' friend ever since Kerby had helped her get her boot unstuck from a drain grating at the park a couple of summers ago. For this good deed, she had given Kerby a very unusual gift: the Feats O' Magic Chemistry Set, which had belonged to her son Felix when he was a boy.

The Feats O' Magic Chemistry Set had been involved with so many of the boys' adventures that they could hardly remember them all. Using the strange chemicals it contained, they had concocted formulas with all sorts of interesting effects: one caused anyone drinking it to be exceedingly well-behaved (except Fenton, who was already so well-behaved that it had actually had the _opposite_ effect on him); another granted almost superhuman skills in sports; yet another had acted like a little television set, helping them locate Waldo when he had run away.

As amazing as the chemistry set was, it was nowhere as unusual as Mrs. Graymalkin herself. She was easily as old as Kerby's grandmother, but she moved with the spry gait of much younger woman. She was quite a sight in her long black dress, black shoes, and enormous black hat with the black feathers that flopped around as she walked. She smiled frequently, with a grin that had as many gaps as it had teeth, and her laugh was a loud cackle that sounded like something out of _Macbeth_.

For this reason, Kerby often thought of her as a witch, although a friendly one. He only half-believed this, but since Fenton—Mr. Scientist himself—vehemently denied the existence of witches, Kerby found endless amusement in acting as if he really believed it. "She's just an eccentric," Fenton would say, exasperated, and then Kerby would go on about the black cat and broom Mrs. Graymalkin probably had at her home.

When the boys reached the park, they let Waldo off his leash so that he could chase squirrels and go exploring. Kerby said with a grin, "What do you think, Fenton? Will Mrs. Graymalkin be able to brew up any ideas for us?"

"Brew up?" Fenton said with a doubtful look. "We've been through this before, Kerby. _She is not a witch. There is no such thing as a witch!_"

"Are you _sure?_" Kerby teased.

Before Fenton could respond, a loud bark split the cool fall air. Both boys immediately recognized Waldo's happy bark, which he usually used for greeting Kerby as he arrived home from school, or when he had Xerxes up a tree. They rushed towards the sound and found Waldo joyfully bouncing up and down as he licked a familiar old wrinkled hand poking out of the sleeve of a long black dress.

"Mrs. Graymalkin!" Kerby and Fenton shouted.

The nearly toothless grin spread across her lined face. "Kerby, Fenton, how nice to see you boys, and of course, dear little Waldo, too," she said. "I just knew I would see you today." She reached into her sleeve, and like a magician pulling a rabbit from a hat, she produced a dog treat—Waldo's favorite kind! Waldo immediately sat down as he had been trained, his wide eyes and twitching tail the only sign of his excitement.

"That's a good boy," Mrs. Graymalkin said, handing him the treat, which Waldo gobbled up immediately. And when the three humans sat down on a park bench, Waldo hopped up to join them, nuzzling his black little nose under Mrs. Graymalkin's hand. She scratched his head absent-mindedly and turned to face Kerby and Fenton.

"How have you been, Mrs. Graymalkin?" asked Kerby. "We haven't seen you for awhile. Did you have a nice summer?"

"Why, thank you, Kerby dear," she said, her smile growing even wider. "So nice of you to ask. Yes, the summer is always nice, with the beautiful trees and lovely flowers, and the birds singing always bring a smile to my face. But I must say I appreciate autumn the most. The cool, crisp air and those wonderful fall colors are my favorite. Not to mention the delightfully spooky feeling you get around Halloween," she added, cackling her familiar cackle. Kerby raised an eyebrow at Fenton, who ignored him.

"And how have you boys been doing? Is there anything exciting going on in your lives?" Mrs. Graymalkin asked.

"Well," began Kerby. "There's this go-cart race—"

"A go-cart race? You don't say! My boy Felix used to race in those all the time as a young boy. He and his friends would build their racers—that's what we called them back then—out of whatever things he could find at that nice Mr. Potts' junkyard and have a wonderful time riding them all around the neighborhood. They loved having races with each other to see whose was the fastest. And ah, my boy, my little Felix, I was so _proud_ of him! He didn't often win, but he always played by the rules. He would come home and say, 'Mother, what a great race!' I would ask him, 'Did you win, dearie?' 'No, Mother,' he would answer shyly. 'But I was the only one who didn't creep over the starting line before the race began!' Such a good boy, so honest! So..."

To Kerby and Fenton's surprise, a single tear ran down Mrs. Graymalkin's cheek, turning this way and that as it followed the lines on her wrinkled old face.

"Are you okay, Mrs. Graymalkin?" asked Kerby, suddenly concerned for his friend. Fenton offered her a tissue from the pocket of his windbreaker, but she politely declined, pulling a beautiful lace handkerchief from her purse.

"Oh, I'm fine, boys, and thank you," she said, dabbing at her moist eyes. "I just get emotional when I think about my Felix as a little boy. So, so long ago..."

Mrs. Graymalkin drifted off for a moment, staring off into space. Kerby and Fenton didn't quite know what to do, never before having seen her so emotional. Waldo, however, did the sensible thing: he whimpered and whined, licking her hand to offer whatever comfort he could.

She suddenly snapped out of her reverie and smiled down at the wiry-haired dog. "Dear little Waldo, you sweet boy! How kind of you, cheering up an old woman like that!"

Focusing her attention on Kerby and Fenton again, she said, "Now, what were you boys saying about a go-cart race?"

Kerby let Fenton tell the story, since he had such an excellent mind for detail. Mrs. Graymalkin listened with interest, and when Fenton started describing the go-cart they had built, Mrs. Graymalkin perked up even more.

"Is it well-designed, boy?" she asked. "You know the importance of having an aerodynamic chassis, of course? And the go-cart should weigh just enough to impart momentum without being too bulky to maneuver. And don't forget the wheels! They must be as light as possible, and well-lubricated to reduce friction against the axles..."

Fenton's jaw dropped. Mrs. Graymalkin was speaking his language! How could she know all of those technical details? He was simultaneously surprised and pleased, and the expression on his face fluttered back and forth between the two emotions in what Kerby found to be a most amusing manner.

Fenton finally stammered, "Um, er, yes, ma'am, it's very efficient. Except for these additions that Bumps insisted on..."

He explained about Bumps' ideas of adding wings and a spoiler, and how he was worried about how they might affect the go-cart's performance.

Mrs. Graymalkin chuckled. "I wouldn't worry about that," she said. "If the wings are thin enough, they won't interfere with the air flow too much. The spoiler probably won't be a factor at all, unless it's so heavy that throws off the go-cart's center of gravity, making the front wheels too light."

Fenton was in awe. "Mrs. Graymalkin," he said. "How do you know so much? Are you an engineer?"

"No, no, nothing like that," she said with a smile. "I just like to read."

"Well," said Kerby. "Thanks for all of your advice, Mrs. Graymalkin. But there's one more problem. There's this group of kids we call the Cheaters' Club, and they cheat at _everything_, and they're going to be in the race, too!"

Mrs. Graymalkin grew serious. "Cheating? That's a dirty word, as far as I'm concerned. But you boys are smart enough to outwit a few rule-breakers, aren't you?"

"I don't know," said Fenton. "They're practically professionals at it. They never seem to get caught."

"Hmm," set Mrs. Graymalkin. "You boys know how I feel about fairness. I've helped you even the odds in the past, and it seems like you could use some help again. Do you still have your chemistry set, Kerby?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Very good. Now, I'm going to tell you about one of Felix's favorite experiments..."


	6. Chapter 6

THAT EVENING, after dinner, Mr. and Mrs. Maxwell decided to go furniture shopping. They asked Kerby and Gay if they would like to come along, but of course the two children were not interested. Furniture shopping was one of those boring activities that grown-ups always seemed to do. Kerby had no idea what appeal it could possibly hold, but his parents seemed to love it. But they let him stay home if he promised to play with Gay, which he reluctantly agreed to do. He was not too excited about the idea, but he was used to her enough to tolerate it for the evening. And he knew from experience that if he and Fenton were going to be using the chemistry set, there would be no hiding it from Gay.

Fenton came over soon after Kerby's parents left, and with Gay, they headed down to the basement where the chemistry set was hidden. Kerby pulled his old toy box out from the space underneath the stairway and opened it. Taking out the wooden building blocks and tin soldiers, Kerby revealed the faded lid of what they were looking for: the Feats O' Magic Chemistry Set.

Even after all the times they had used the chemistry set, Kerby still had a sense of wonder and awe every time he lifted its lid and read the faded red and black printing on the inside:

_FEATS O' MAGIC CHEMISTRY SET_

_Instructive! Entertaining!_

_Hours of Amusement!_

_Astonish Your Friends!_

_Entertain at Parties!_

_Make Extra Money Giving Demonstrations!_

Kerby thought carefully, trying to remember the instructions Mrs. Graymalkin had given them. As he did so, he decided to get one more rib in on his scientifically-minded friend.

"How did that spell go again?" he asked Fenton.

"It wasn't a spell!" said Fenton emphatically. "She didn't even call it that—she said it was just a mnemonic device for remembering which chemicals to use."

"But it _rhymed_..." Kerby continued, grinning teasingly.

"That's what makes it easy to remember!" Fenton protested. Then, he paused and looked carefully at Kerby. "You're just joshing with me, aren't you?"

"It took you long enough figure it out," Kerby said. "Just having a little fun. I just wanted to see how riled up you'd get."

"Okay, okay, you got me," said Fenton, grinning himself. "Shall we get down to business now?"

"Sure."

"Good. All right, since you're the poetry wizard—" Fenton paused, remembering Kerby's misadventures with a concoction from the chemistry set that made him speak in rhymes for several days. "—how did her instructions go?"

Kerby looked down for a moment, chewing his lip, and then recited carefully:

"_Two from the top and four from the left,_

_Bottom right corner, then please be deft:_

_Take three drops from one, and four from two,_

_No more, no less, or else you'll get goo._

"_Into a beaker pour two and then one,_

_Then eight measures water, before you are done._

_Pour half in one tube, the rest in a twin,_

_Then cork them up tight, and then you must spin._

"_Two minutes clockwise, and then they must sit._

_When you're ready to race, apply just a bit,_

_To both wheels at once, but do not forget;_

_Too much or too little, you'll surely regret."_

Gay laughed happily. "Kerby, that was great!"

Kerby smiled and took a deep bow. "Thank you, thank you," he said.

"Very nice," said Fenton. He regarded the rows of old test tubes nestled in their spaces in the felt lined box. Some of the corked tubes were nearly empty, while others were as much as two-thirds filled with a liquid of some sort. Most of the labels on the test tubes were too faded to read, so the little booklet _One Thousand and One Tricks to Do With Your FEATS O' MAGIC Chemistry Set_ was pretty much worthless; not a good idea guessing at which chemicals to use in an experiment. Fortunately, they had Mrs. Graymalkin's spell—mnemonic device, rather!—to help them out. Fenton carefully counted two rows down and four tubes from the left and removed the half-full test tube he found there.

Handing it to Kerby, he said, "Okay, hang on to this. Let's remember: it's Number One." Then he took out the test tube from the bottom right corner and held it up, saying, "This one is Number Two."

Fenton then took a beaker and carefully set it on the workbench. Holding up one of the chemistry set's eyedroppers, he said, "Uncork Number One, Kerby. We need three drops."

Kerby complied, and Fenton carefully put the three drops into the beaker. He squirted the rest of the dropper back into the tube, wiped the tube dry on a paper towel, then took four drops from his own test tube.

"Can I do this next part?" asked Gay.

"C'mon, Gay," said Kerby. "I let you in on the secret. Isn't that enough?"

"Okay, okay," she said. "But I have an idea for when we test it out. Will you at least listen to me then?"

"Fine," said Kerby distractedly, watching Fenton carefully.

"Here you go, Kerby," said Fenton, handing him the small metal measuring spoon from the chemistry set.

Kerby half-filled another beaker with tap water and scooped eight measures full into the mixture. Suddenly, the liquid seemed to come alive! It fizzed for a moment, then abruptly stopped, becoming crystal clear. Leaning over the beaker to get a better view, Kerby and Fenton thought they could see little whorls moving about on the surface of the liquid.

"What in the world is that?" asked Kerby, amazed.

"I can't see!" cried Gay. They let her lean over the mixture. "Wow! Yeah, what _is_ that?"

"I don't know," said Fenton, equally astonished. "It's like little spirals of liquid energy or something. Fascinating! But quickly, let's follow the rest of the instructions."

They divided the concoction between two new test tubes and corked them up tightly. Then, watching the old clock above the workbench, the boys slowly started spinning them (Kerby had to watch Fenton to see which direction was clockwise). After two minutes, Fenton said, "Okay, stop. That's perfect."

"Now, will you listen to my idea?" Gay asked, her eyes shining.

"What is it, Gay?" said Fenton patiently.

"Well, I was thinking that since this is just a test, maybe we shouldn't try it on the go-cart. What if something goes wrong? What if something happens to the go-cart? Do you want to explain that to Bumps?"

Fenton looked at Kerby. "She's right. We should have some kind of test vehicle. We don't know how this stuff will perform."

"What were you thinking of, Gay?" asked Kerby.

"Well, you know the baby doll carriage I keep here at your house? The one that Waldo likes to sit in and pretend he's my baby?"

"Yeah, I know—_what?_" said Kerby, shocked. "For gosh sakes, Gay, you're turning him into a baby!"

"Naw," said Gay. "He's too busy taking care of his _own_ doll, Waldo Junior."

"What? Who is Waldo Junior? And what do you mean, his own doll?"

"Well, I just thought he should have his own little baby to take care of. See? Here he is!"

Gay held a small, fluffy pink stuffed rabbit wearing a little baby bonnet.

Fenton chuckled, but Kerby cringed.

"Gaaahh!" he shouted, trying to cover his eyes and ears at the same time.

"I like to have Waldo give Waldo Junior his bottle and binky," Gay said.

"_Gaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhh!_" Kerby yelled, and he ran out of the room.

"What did I say?" Gay asked innocently.

It took Fenton nearly ten minutes to convince Kerby to come back down to the basement.

"Let's at least keep him safe," Kerby said gruffly. He looked around by his old toy chest and eventually found a small plastic army helmet he used to wear when he was younger. He slipped it on Waldo's head and put the elastic strap under his chin. Waldo seemed a bit suspicious but let Kerby do it.

They headed upstairs and went out to the back yard. Kerby carried Waldo, Gay carried her baby doll carriage, and Fenton carried the two test tubes. Waldo seemed happy to go into the baby carriage and immediately snuggled into the blanket inside. Kerby looked at his dog with disgust for a moment, then shook his head and sighed.

"Okay, Fenton, what's the plan?"

"Well, you've got a nice wide back yard, so I figured we'd just start at one end and pour a small bit of the formula onto the tires of the baby carriage. Someone could wait at the far end of the yard and catch it."

"Ooh, fun! Can I help with the pouring?" asked Gay.

"I don't know—" began Kerby.

"That might be best, actually," said Fenton. "We don't know how fast the carriage will be going, and it would probably be best for you to catch it, Kerby."

"Well...all right."

"Yay!" said Gay.

"Just calm down, all right?" said Kerby. "This is serious stuff."

Gay and Fenton pushed the carriage holding Waldo to the edge of the lawn, while Kerby stationed himself at the far end.

"This should be a cinch," he said to himself. Feet apart, knees slightly bent, he put his hands out, ready to receive the rushing Waldomobile. He squinted across the lawn to watch as Fenton and Gay knelt down to pour the magical formula onto the wheels.

What happened next could best be described as bedlam.

On Fenton's cue, Gay attempted to pour a small amount of formula on the carriage's left rear wheel at the same time Fenton poured some onto the right rear wheel. But her hands were shaking with excitement, and some spilled on the ground.

For a moment nothing happened. Then the wheels of the carriage started to slowly turn and it edged forward. But immediately Kerby saw a problem: it wasn't coming straight at him; it was hooking sharply to the left.

"Darn it, Gay!" he said, getting up to grab the carriage.

Unfortunately, at that point, the formula really got going, and the Waldomobile really took off. But since one wheel was spinning much faster than the other, it was looping around madly, and nobody could catch it!

Waldo at first had enjoyed the motion of the carriage, thinking he was just being taken for a little stroll. But when it took off like a lopsided rocket, he sat up in panic, with his front paws digging into the edge of the carriage and a look of sheer terror in his eyes.

Faster and faster the cart went, traversing circles, ellipses, ovals, and various nameless blob-like shapes. Kerby, Fenton, and Gay all started chasing after it, shouting, "Waldo! Waldo!" By now, the terrified pooch was howling, and as he flew around the yard, he sounded like a siren on an out-of-control ambulance: "WhoooooooOOOOOoooooooOOOOOOOoooooo!"

And finally, when Kerby thought things couldn't get worse, the carriage ran right through his mother's flower bed, and right through the hedges into Mrs. Pembroke's yard!

There was a brief silence. Then they heard a horrified "_Riiaaaooww!"_ from Xerxes, Mrs. Pembroke's cat, who suddenly popped up into view from behind the hedges like a feline piece of toast.

Suddenly the runaway carriage burst back through the hedges, with Waldo still hanging on for dear life. It seemed to have a mind of its own, dodging neatly between the lunging Kerby and Fenton, who crashed into each other and fell to the ground. It just missed running over Gay's left foot, then went into a tightening loop until it started spinning in place like a top! Finally, the Waldomobile tipped over, dumping its terrified passenger to the ground.

Waldo, relieved to finally be free from the possessed vehicle, got up dizzily, took three steps, and fell into the birdbath. He splashed out, gave a sharp bark of indignation, and ran into the house.

"Well," said Fenton momentarily, "I guess you won't have to worry about Waldo playing in Gay's baby carriage anymore."


	7. Chapter 7

ON WEDNESDAY, Kerby, Fenton, and Bumps agreed to meet by the flag pole in the school's parking lot right when they got out of class, so that they could bring their entry form over to the Village Hall. It was due that day, and they had been so busy putting the finishing touches on their go-cart that they had nearly forgotten about it.

It was a relatively quiet day at school. The Cheaters' Club seemed to be laying low for some reason. They were silent and well-behaved in class; and during recess, they didn't even join in any games. They huddled together at the edge of the playground, ignoring everybody else.

"They're probably just working on some new ways to cheat," Bumps said, tossing a football to Kerby.

At 3:30 sharp, Kerby and Bumps stood at the flag pole. Fenton was nowhere to be found.

"Where is he?" said Kerby, looking around anxiously. "He's usually the king of punctuality!"

"Whaddya mean?" said Bumps. "I know he's good with commas and periods and stuff. What's that got to do with being on time?"

Kerby started to explain, when suddenly Fenton ran up, out of breath.

"The entry form," he gasped. "I thought it was gone! I had it in my locker all day to keep it safe, right on the top shelf. And when I went there after class to get it, it wasn't there! At first, I thought I'd lost my mind, but then I started searching around and found at it the bottom, buried under some books."

"Well, come on, let's go," said Kerby, climbing onto his bicycle. "The Village Hall closes at 4:00."

As the boys rode, Fenton continued to explain. "There's no way I put the form there. I haven't even touched those books for weeks. Do you know what that means?"

"That you already read them?" said Bumps slowly.

"No, no, Bumps, it means that _somebody broke into my locker_! And I'll give you one guess who it was!"

Riding alongside Fenton, Bumps slapped a hand to his forehead, throwing off his balance. He wobbled wildly for a moment and nearly fell off, but he finally regained control. "Criminy! Those cheaters did it again! I knew they were up to something!"

Kerby shook his head. This was taking it to a new level. Cheating on the playground or in class was bad enough, but to break into somebody else's locker and _mess with their stuff..._that was way over the line. Lockers were the one place in school where a kid felt some kind of ownership: you hung your coat in your locker; at noon, you grabbed your lunch box from there; it even had the familiar smell of your sweaty gym shoes, which sat there all year. Nobody would ever think of violating this revered and highly personal place...except, apparently, the Cheaters' Club.

Speaking with a carefully controlled voice, Fenton said, "I always try to do the right thing. To be polite. Be nice. Be proper. But geez, a guy can only be good for so long, when other guys are being so bad."

"I'm surprised they didn't just rip up the entry form," said Kerby.

"Probably for two reasons," said Fenton. "One: if they ripped it up or stole it and we could somehow prove that they did it, they'd be in real trouble. But can you imagine what a teacher would say if I said, 'The Cheaters' Club broke into my locker and moved a piece of paper from one shelf to another!'?"

"I see what you mean," Kerby said.

Fenton continued, "And here's the second reason, which is even worse: they're toying with us."

"Whattya mean, toying with us?" Bumps grunted, sweating with effort as the boys started up a steep hill.

"_Well_," Fenton gasped, also working hard at his pedals, "_they...enjoy...being...annoying...like...gnats._" He stopped talking as they pressed on up the hill.

"_They...bug you...for a little bit...then fly away..._" he continued, gasping for breath, "_before...you can...can...swat them._"

"_But...they...keep...coming back,_" Kerby wheezed.

As they neared the top, the three boys were almost totally winded. Fenton managed to pant, "_Right,_" and then said no more as he huffed and puffed his way up the last fifteen feet of the hill.

Finally the road leveled off and began a slight downward slope. Kerby, Fenton, and Bumps gratefully coasted along on their bikes, collectively catching their breath as they glided towards the Village Hall building, which was now in sight. They rode the last block, pulled up onto the sidewalk in front of the building, and carefully locked up their bicycles in the bike rack outside the front entrance.

"Hey, it's almost 4:00!" Kerby said, after a quick glance at his watch. "Come on!"

Rushing inside, they quickly found the office directory, a large black sign with white letters indicating where each department was located. The sign was the kind that had a hinged frame with a glass plate, which could be opened to allow a person to change the wording on the sign.

None of the boys noticed that the frame was not quite closed.

"Okay, we have to turn in the form at some place called Village Promotions," Fenton said, scanning through the list of departments. "Ah, here it is: Room 301."

Turning toward the staircase, the boys craned their necks and groaned. After the exhausting bicycle ride, the steep climb to the third floor would be grueling. Kerby and Fenton slowly began ascending the steps, with Bumps clomping up behind them.

"One more floor," Kerby gasped as they passed the second floor. "Come on!"

They finally reached the third floor and raced down a corridor, looking left and right at the numbers on the office doors. Of course, Room 301 was at the end of the hallway. Pulling open the glass door, Kerby ran to the desk just inside and said, "We're here! We're here! Here's our form for the go-cart race!"

An older man with short, gray hair sat behind the desk. He looked at Kerby bemusedly. "What's that, son? This is the Department of Village Projects. I think you want Promotions, down on the first floor. Room 103."

"Room 103? But the sign said 301!" Kerby began.

Fenton looked at the lettering on the office door. "It does say '301, Village Projects'. The directory was wrong!" he said.

"Come on! Back down to the first floor!" said Kerby, racing out the door with Fenton at his heels. Flying back down the hallway, they made it to the stairway just as Bumps made it to the top.

"Wha—?" Bumps said, and then he and Kerby collided. Kerby fell backwards into the corridor, but Bumps fell back the other way down the stairs!

Flailing his arms, Bumps just managed to grab the railing of the spiral staircase with one hand, saving himself from falling down backwards. But he had been carrying the entry form in his other hand, and he dropped it down the stairwell.

"The form! Get it!" yelled Fenton.

They raced down the steps, chasing after the entry form. It flipped and flopped ahead of them like a large, drunken butterfly. Kerby made a grab for the fluttering paper, only to have it elude his grasp and flutter down to the next set of steps. Twisting and turning, it almost went out the window of the second floor landing, only to change course and float gently down to the last ten steps, to the first floor—where the nimble fingers of Taylor VonNewhauer snatched it out of the air!

The three members of the Cheaters' Club were standing at the bottom of the stairway, just outside a door labeled "Village Promotions – Room 103".

_The office directory! I'll bet they switched the numbers on the sign! _ thought Fenton.

"Well, well, well. What do we have here?" said Spivey, taking the entry form from Taylor. He quickly scanned the text, and a mocking smile broke out on his face.

"Get a look at this, guys," he said. "'The Ardiomanic Wonder'! What kind of name is that for a go-cart? Is that even a word? _Ardiomanic?_ Ha ha ha ha!"

Taylor and Bull joined in the laughter, as Kerby, Fenton, and Bumps finally made it to the bottom of the staircase.

"Give that back _now!"_ Kerby said. "We have to turn it in before the office closes, you know that!"

Kerby fully expected Spivey to rip the form into a million little pieces and throw it at him, but Spivey handed it over with a grin.

"Sure, here you go," he said. "Wouldn't want you to miss the race. I'm sure you'll have a good shot at winning the 'Car With Goofiest Name' prize."

Kerby and Fenton fumed. They were already embarrassed about the name Bumps had insisted on bestowing upon their go-cart, but Spivey's mocking words were the icing on the cake.

Bumps was more angry than ashamed, since he apparently still thought "ardiomanic" was a word.

"I suppose you came up with something better for your own go-cart?" Bumps said. "Like the...the...um..."

"Yes?" Spivey said, still smiling his mocking little smile. He folded his arms, patiently waiting for Bumps to attempt to finish the sentence.

"The...umm...umm..." Bumps stammered, growing red in the face.

"Yes?" Spivey said. Taylor and Bull folded their arms in the same manner as their friend.

"The Cheatmobile!" exploded Bumps finally. Now he himself smiled proudly and folded his own arms.

"Oooh, that's a good one!" laughed Spivey, and Taylor and Bull laughed along with him. "It's actually called The Lightning Strike, and I'm sure it'll have no problem beating whatever piece of junk you guys put together. Come on, guys, let's go. We have been truly put in our place. Let's go before Bumps can come up with any more witty retorts."

And with that, the three walked out the front door. Bumps made a move as if to go after them, but Fenton stopped him.

"Come on, we've got to turn this form in!"

They rushed into the Village Promotions room just as a large, bespectacled lady was straightening out some papers at an old wooden desk. It looked as though she was just about to leave.

"Please, Mrs. ...um, Mrs. Lady," Kerby said.

The lady looked up suddenly. "Yes?" she said. "And it's Mrs. Larson, by the way, thank you. What do you boys want? I'm just about to go home. Can't it wait until tomorrow?"

"We have to hand in our entry form for the race!" Kerby blurted, grabbing the paper from Fenton and slamming it onto the desk.

"Oh, I see," she said, glancing at her clock. "You just made the deadline. It's four o'clock right now."

"Thank goodness," said Fenton. "Thank you very much, Mrs. Larson."

"You're welcome. Good luck in the race."

Kerby and Bumps thanked her as well, and the boys left the office. Just as the door swung closed behind them, they heard Mrs. Larson's voice.

"'Ardiomanic Wonder'..?"


	8. Chapter 8

IT WAS sunny and warm on Thursday. Gay and Rita were playing on the swing set in Rita's backyard, happily discussing their completed go-cart and the upcoming race.

"Let's take it out of the shed and look at it one more time," Gay said.

"I was just thinking the same thing," Rita said. "Hey, watch this!"

Rita pumped her legs, swinging back and forth in increasing arcs. When her backward swing was nearly parallel to the ground, she shouted, "Ready for blastoff!" And then, as she neared the apex of her forward swing, she let go and jumped.

Rita seemed to float through space for a moment, and Gay could almost imagine her as an astronaut, bobbing slowly on a tether as she made repairs to the outside of a space station. The peaceful smile on Rita's face turned to a tight-lipped look of concentration as she prepared to land in the soft grass below.

"And we have touchdown!" she said triumphantly, turning back to look at Gay.

"That was amazing!" Gay said, impressed. "Now, watch this!"

Gay was seated on the swing set's trapeze, and she suddenly let go and fell backward. Rita gasped, thinking her new friend had slipped and was about to smack her head on the ground. But Gay hooked her feet around the uprights and swung back and forth, her back arched and fingertips nearly grazing the ground.

On her third swing forward, she released her feet from the trapeze. Performing a graceful half-flip, Gay smoothly and gracefully brought her legs down, landing neatly with her feet together and arms up in a gymnastics salute.

"Ta-daaaah!" she said.

"Wow! Are you a gymnast or something?" Rita asked.

"No, I just practice that a lot on my swing set at home," Gay said. "I want to be able to do a full back flip some day."

"Wow," Rita repeated. "Well, let's have another look at the go-cart."

The girls walked to the squat little shed in Rita's back yard and eased open its heavy door. Parked just inside, next to a workbench, rested their creation. Just seeing it again brought back memories of Tuesday afternoon, when the two friends had had a great time building it.

The basic design had largely been Rita's. Her thorough understanding of mechanics had proven invaluable, and she had designed a go-cart that was light and quick. While it lacked the flashy steering wheel of the boys' go-cart, having a simple clothesline for steering, it did have brakes of a sort: a wooden lever was attached to the side of the go-cart, near the back right wheel. When pulled up, the handle's end would press against the tire and prevent it from rotating, bringing the go-cart to a stop. Rita had explained that the brake would also be helpful in executing quick skidding turns.

"Now, the other go-carts are going to be a lot heavier, especially with the bigger kids riding in them," Rita said. "That means that they will be able to build a lot more momentum than we will. And that would be a serious problem for us if the race were to take place on a course that was just straight downhill. But it's got a lot of turns, and the big cars will have a lot of inertia to overcome—they'll have to practically come to a stop to make those turns."

"Um, what's inertia?" Gay asked.

"Well...it's kind of complicated," Rita said. "Inertia is the force behind an object that you encounter when you try to change its state of motion."

"Huh?"

"Let's put it this way. Have you ever rolled a marble?"

"Of course."

"Was it easy?"

"Of course."

"Why?"

"Well, it's tiny and doesn't weigh much at all."

"Exactly. How about a bowling ball?"

"Sure. My parents take me bowling every year for my birthday."

"Was it easy or hard to roll the bowling ball, and why?"

"Well, it was hard. It's heavy, and you have to push it really hard to get it moving. When I was younger, I could barely get it moving at all, and once it stopped before it got halfway to the pins. My dad ran out to give it a push, but he forgot how slippery the lanes are, and he fell on his bottom," Gay said, giggling.

"Right...well, anyway, the bowling ball had a lot more inertia than a marble does, because it's more massive."

"Massive?"

"Massive means pretty much the same thing as heavy. Not exactly, but close enough for this discussion. Anyway, the more massive something is, the more inertia you have to overcome when you want to start it moving or stop it when it's moving."

"I think I understand," said Gay, actually not really sure that she understood. This was complicated stuff! "I think you could have some really good conversations with my cousin's smart friend Fenton..."

As informed as Rita had been about all matters mechanical, once the go-cart had been built, she had no idea what to do with it next.

"What color should we paint it?" said Gay, perking up a bit when the topic turned toward design.

"Um...I don't know," said Rita. "We have a bunch of paint in the shed, but I have no idea what would look good."

"How about a nice green and gold color scheme?" Gay asked. "I think we could make that look really nice. We could use green for most of the body and then add gold accents here and there...maybe some lightning bolts!"

"Huh!" said Rita, impressed with how quickly Gay had come up with what sounded like a really good design.

"Maybe some racing stripes, or a nice chevron design...oh, and we need a number on the front and sides! It's gotta be Number Forty-Four!"

"Why is that?"

"Forty-four's my favorite number."

"Oh."

The painting of the go-cart turned out to be yet another excellent opportunity for the girls' complementary skill sets: Rita easily pried open the tightly-shut paint cans and evenly applied two coats of sea green; Gay's sharp eye and steady hand then added the details that gave the go-cart an attractive and professional look. Once again, working together proved to be a very pleasant experience for the two friends.

But, as it turned out, coming up with a name for their creation was even more entertaining. The girls sat in Rita's bedroom, pondering.

"We should call it something special," Gay said. "Something that says something about both of us."

"How about 'Gay and Rita's Fast and Beautiful Car'?" Rita asked.

"It is fast and beautiful, but that's a bit of a mouthful," Gay said.

"Yeah, you're right."

"How about 'The Shooting Star'?" Gay said.

"Not bad, but also not terribly original," Rita said.

"Yeah. Hey, I have an idea!" Gay said, brightening.

"What?" said Rita.

"Brainstorming!" Gay exclaimed.

"You want to call the car 'Brainstorming'?" Rita asked.

Gay said, "No, no, let's use the technique of brainstorming to come up with a name. Let's just blurt out a bunch of ideas without thinking about how good they are. We write everything down, no matter how goofy it sounds. That way, our creativity can really get going and we should be able to come up with a ton of ideas. Once we have a nice long list of names, we can look through it critically and pick out the best one."

"That sounds like a great idea." Rita grabbed a pencil and a spiral notebook from her desk. "I can write pretty quickly. Shall we begin?"

"Okay," Gay said. "How about...'Oatmeal Express'?"

Rita wrote it down, giggling. "Or maybe...'Purple Monkey'?"

"Heh-heh. 'Fantastic Umbrella'."

"Good one! 'Intriguing Jackrabbit'!"

"'Golf Ball Dimples'!"

"'Linoleum Adventure'!"

Rita was now laughing out loud and having a hard time writing. "'Applied Mathematics'!" she said.

Gay started laughing, too, and she could barely get out "'Fuzzy Fungus'!"

"Hahahaha...'Follicular Splendor'!" Rita gasped, no longer able to write.

"'P-P-Powerful...Powerful...P-P-Popsicle'!" Gay blurted, tears streaming down her face.

"_Skin...of...of...Kiwi!_" Rita screamed and she fell off the bed.

"Hahahahahaaaa!" Gay cried, falling down as well.

They next five minutes were spent in hysterical laughter. Red in the face, gasping for air, both girls tried to catch their breath, with little success. Afraid of passing out, Gay finally bit her own lip, hoping the sharp pain would help her to break out of the laughing fit. She was almost settled down, when suddenly Rita got a very serious look on her face, leaned very close to Gay, and whispered:

"'_Waldo's Wacky Wheels'_."

This started another bout of uncontrollable laughter. Fortunately, this one didn't last as long as the last one. Rita finally said, "Hey...how about 'Stylin' Speed'?"

"Stylin' Speed...Stylin' Speed...hmm, I like that." Gay said. "That really means something, doesn't it? You gave the go-cart speed—"

"—and you gave it style," Rita finished. "It's perfect!"

"Terrific!" Gay said.

"Now. We're all set; the name of the go-cart was the last thing we needed. My mom works at the Village Hall, so she said she can bring the form in when she goes to work on Wednesday."

The girls completed their entry form, listing the three riders as Rita Blake, Gay Stevens, and...Waldo Junior.

"They just said we had to list the passengers. It didn't say that they all had to be _people,_" Rita reasoned.

"That was a lot of fun," Gay said, as they looked at the go-cart sitting in the shed. "But...there's just one little problem."

"What?" Rita asked.

"I'm afraid to ride in it."

"_What?_"

"I really and truly am afraid. I don't know that I can get in that go-cart and go racing down a hill!"

"But Gay—why didn't you say anything before? We've already got our names on the list, and we're probably pressing our luck by having one of them be a doll. You've _got _to ride in the race!"

Gay's lower lip started to quiver. "I can't do it," she said quietly. "While we were building the go-cart, I was having such a good time and was so distracted that I didn't have the chance to be scared." She started to cry a little. "B-b-but with everything all done except for the race, th-th-that's all I can think about. And I'm _sc-sc-scared_, Rita!"

Rita put her arm around her friend's shoulder. "Okay, okay, Gay, calm down, now. Let's talk. Talking is a really good thing to do when you're afraid of something. That's what my mom says, at least, and I believe her. So why are you afraid of riding the go-cart in the race?"

"It was a couple of summers ago," Gay began, trying to regain her composure. "I was visiting Kerby's family. I was on my roller skates one day, and I forgot about how the sidewalk suddenly slopes down when you get close to Walker Street, and before I knew it, I was going faster and faster! I froze and was too scared to do a quick spin stop. I don't even know if I could have, as fast as I was going. As I got closer to the street, I saw all of this traffic zooming back and forth and I thought I was headed right for it. But at the last second, I pushed hard to the left and threw myself right into that big maple tree on the corner."

"Ouch!" said Rita. "Were you hurt?"

"Not badly, thank goodness. A sore wrist from stopping myself as I hit the tree, plus a couple of bruises and scrapes."

"Well, that's good. It could have been a lot worse."

"No kidding! That's what has me so scared. I am really afraid of that 'going downhill on wheels and out of control' feeling—and that's exactly what we'd be doing in the go-cart."

"I can see how scary that was," said Rita. "But remember, we'll be sitting down, first of all. Also, the course will be closed to traffic, so there's nothing to worry there. And you can even sit in the back of the go-cart and control the brakes if you want."

"Well..." Gay said. "That does sound a lot safer."

"And we don't have to win the race, just have a fun time."

"Yeah, we don't have to win—wait a minute, what do you mean, we don't have to win the race?"

"Well, we can just coast along nice and easy...we can always just have the Style without the Speed, " Rita said with a grin.

Gay's face lit up. "Oh, okay, I get it. You're just fooling with me, aren't you? You're using that—reverse thingy, what do they call it...?"

"Just a bit of playfully applied reverse psychology, that's all."

"Very funny," Gay said, chuckling. "All right, I'll be okay. I realize this is safer than barreling towards a busy intersection, and I do want to win. Let's do it!"

"That's the spirit!" said Rita, and the girls hugged.

Back at the Maxwells' house, Gay was even more cheerful than usual at the dinner table. She was all smiles as she drank her milk, passed the butter, and lightly dabbed her mouth with her napkin.

"What's got you so happy, Gay?" asked Kerby. For some reason, he found himself _not_ annoyed by Gay's cheerfulness for a change. It was even rubbing off on him a bit, to his surprise.

"I'm just really glad to have Rita as a friend."

"What do you guys do for fun, just play dress up with Waldo?" Kerby asked jokingly.

"No, we have Waldo Junior for that."

"_Gaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhh!_" Kerby yelled, as he dropped his fork and ran out of the dining room.


	9. Chapter 9

ON FRIDAY, the whole school seemed to be abuzz with excitement about the upcoming race. Within the first hour of classes, everybody knew that Kerby and his friends, Red's gang, and the Cheaters' Club had built and entered go-carts. Gay and Rita, however, had purposely kept their entry a secret. "Let's make a surprise of it!" Rita had suggested, and Gay had agreed.

Although many of the other kids had started building go-carts, most of their efforts were half-hearted and had not been completed. Only one other racing team had actually finished theirs: the Simmons boys.

Everybody at school knew Bill, Will, and Phil Simmons. They were nice enough and fairly well liked, but mostly they were known for being the only identical triplets in the state. And it seemed that this rarity used up all of the uniqueness that Fortune had cared to bestow upon the boys. Everything else about them was extremely average: they were of average height, average build, and their medium-brown hair sat in an orderly style on the tops of their heads.

A quirk in Kerby's schedule gave him a 15-minute break between his Math and Reading classes each morning. He had to spend this time in the library, so it didn't really feel like a break; he would have rather been running around on the playground. But today he was so excited about the race that he had been inspired to look for books about go-carts.

Looking through the Subject card catalog, he found two entries: one referenced a Bill Cosby comedy album that included a routine called Go Karts; the other was a book titled _Soap-box Derby_.

"Soap-box racers…hey, that's what my dad called them!" Kerby said aloud.

"Shhhh!" said Mrs. Court, the librarian.

"Sorry, sorry," he whispered. Mrs. Court was a kindly woman, but she was quite strict about library rules, and a little odd sometimes.

Kerby strolled over to the Fiction section of the library and wandered down to "W-Z" shelf, since _Soap-box Derby_ was written by somebody named Rosemary Weir. He scanned along the top row of the shelf and shortly located the book. It had no dust jacket, but it looked to be in decent condition. Smiling—it was always fun to find a book right where it should be—Kerby headed for the checkout counter, _Soap-box Derby_ tucked under his arm.

While Mrs. Court checked out the book for him, Kerby suddenly noticed the time. "Uh-oh. Got to get to class in three minutes!" he said, a bit too loudly.

Mrs. Court's head snapped up at Kerby, her book stamp frozen in mid-air. In a soft yet commanding voice, she said, "Please, Mr. Maxwell…shh! Keep your voice down. You know the rules: no loud voices in the library. Loud voices are distractions, and a distracted reader is not a _happy_ reader, do you understand?"

"Um…sorry, Mrs. Court," Kerby said quietly, his face red.

There was nobody in the library but the two of them. Whom was he in danger of distracting? "It's just that I've been late to Reading class once, and if I'm late two more times, Ms. Baker will keep me after school. And today's an important day in Reading—"

"Reading is always important," Mrs. Court said emphatically.

"Um, yes. But we're going over the next chapter of _Johnny Tremain_ today, and—OHMIGOSH! I left the book at home!"

"Mr. Maxwell, hush, please—"

"I was reading it at my desk last night, and Waldo came bouncing into my room with one of Gay's stupid bows in his hair, and I had to chase him down and take it off and go find Gay to tell her to cut it out—"

"Kerby, please!"

"—and that distracted me from reading the book, and since I was going to put it in my backpack after I finished reading it, but I didn't finish reading it, 'cause I was distracted, like I said, and—"

"SHHHHHH!" Mrs. Court said, forcefully enough to ruffle the papers on her desktop. "Mr. Maxwell, please! Would you like _me_ to keep you after school?"

"No, no, of course not, sorry!" Kerby whispered quickly. "But I need to check out a copy of _Johnny Tremain_ quickly, or I'll be in big trouble! I don't even remember who wrote it, so I have to go look it up, and fast."

"Well, I can help you with that. It was written by Esther Forbes. If you'll just lower your voice, I'll be glad to help you find it."

"Gosh, thanks, Mrs. Court, I'd really appreciate it," Kerby said. He nervously looked at the clock again. Only a few minutes until the tardy bell would ring!

Mrs. Court quickly came out from behind the counter, and Kerby was reminded why the other kids sometimes referred to her as "Mrs. Short": she was barely taller than he was. _I'll probably be taller than her by the time I reach high school,_ he thought. _Then again, so what? She's a nice lady, and she's trying to help me._

The petite librarian quickly and efficiently moved through the stacks. Kerby found himself watching her nose, which was rather pointed. As she darted left and right between the bookshelves, Kerby was reminded of the needle of some sort of magic book compass, always pointing the way to her destination.

"Here we are—_Johnny Tremain_," Mrs. Court said, crisply pulling a copy of the novel from the shelf. "A delightful book, filled with wonderful themes of transformation, character growth, and—"

"Oh, please, Mrs. Court, can I just take the book and go? I'm gonna be late to class unless I go right now. Can you just sign the checkout slip for me? Or I could just bring the book back right after class..."

"Absolutely not, Mr. Maxwell!" she said, sounding shocked. "All books must be checked out according to the proper procedure. To disregard the correct process would be—be—_wrong!"_ she stammered, almost seeming to shudder at the thought.

"Oh, man," Kerby moaned. But there was no changing her mind.

After checking out his books and thanking Mrs. Court, Kerby hurried out into the hallway and started jogging towards the room in which his Reading class was held. _Two minutes to go_, he thought. _Gotta get there!_

As he anxiously trotted along, Kerby happened to glance down a side hallway. _Hey, what are the Cheaters doing outside the Art room?_ He skidded to a halt. Spivey, Taylor, and Bull were staring closely at something on the wall, talking and nodding to one another. After a moment, they walked off, not noticing Kerby.

_I should just get to class, but—this will only take a sec_, Kerby thought. He hurried to the Art room and arrived just as Mrs. Waverly, the art teacher, came into the hallway.

"Bee-youtiful, isn't it?" she said proudly. "Not bad for a couple days' work, eh?"

Kerby stared. A large mural was hung on the wall, depicting the entire course of the go-cart race!

"Yeah, my sister works in the Village Hall, and she had a map of the course, and thought it might look nice as a mural. So I brought it in and had my after-school Art class kids paint this big version of it. What do you think?"

Kerby was mesmerized. The mural showed the whole race course, laid out in great detail, brightly colored and neatly lettered. He was already familiar with it, since the local newspaper had run an article about the race earlier in the week, and a small, blurry picture of the course had been included. But this picture—he felt as though he could step right into it!

The race started at the park district, at the top of the sledding hill. It continued through a closed-off section of the parking lot, then followed the sidewalk that curved around the park district building. The course briefly went alongside the creek that ran through town, and then into the wooded park, following the twisting, shady paths. A narrow strip of asphalt led out of the park and down a long street where a new housing development was going up. From there, one last hill, and then finally, the finish line in the middle of town.

"Yesiree," Mrs. Waverly continued, "this race is going to be a great time!"

Time…time? Time! Kerby had to get to class, and now! He turned and ran back down the hallway. Unfortunately, his math teacher saw him running as he passed her room.

"Kerby!"

_Oh, nuts!_

"Please come back here."

"Yes, Mrs. Weber?"

"You know the rules about running in the hallways, don't you?"

"Yes, Ma'am."

"Then please go back and _walk."_

"Yes, Ma'am." _Arg!_ he thought. _Come on, I was almost there!_ But he dutifully walked back ten feet, and with his head down, slowly walked back past Mrs. Weber.

"Thank you, Kerby. Please remember not to run next time."

Kerby was three feet from his classroom door when the tardy bell rang. Ms. Baker berated him in front of the class for getting his second tardy mark as he slunk to his seat.

And as it turned out, they didn't even discuss _Johnny Tremain_ that day.

Despite Kerby's misadventures, his mood had lightened by the end of the day when he joined Fenton and Bumps for gym class. As they changed in the locker room, Kerby told his friends about the mural outside the Art room, and how he'd seen the Cheaters' Club carefully studying it.

"Yeah, I got a good, long look at that thing. It's gonna be a tough race—lots of pushing," Bumps said. "Good thing the Ardiomanic Wonder has wings."

"Um, yeah," said Fenton. "Anyway, I already memorized the course from the picture in the paper. We'll do all right. The other teams will have to go through the same course."

"Yeah," Kerby agreed, as they headed out to the gym. "Let's see what Mr. Wallis has in store for us today."

Their gym teacher had them playing basketball that afternoon. The class was broken up into teams of five and spread throughout the gym to play half-court games.

Kerby, Fenton, and Bumps somehow wound up with Red's buddies Eddie Mumford and Pinky Marshall. As they strode to the court, the other team came out, as well: the Cheaters' Club, plus Red Blake and one of the Simmons triplets.

"Ugh, we gotta play _them_?" Bumps groaned. "They're gonna cheat all over the place, and Mr. Wallis'll probably never even notice."

"Okay, you guys, let's have a good clean game, here," Spivey said with a smirk.

Kerby and his friends actually did not need to worry about Spivey's team cheating. Apparently Spivey MacIntyre and his friends had actually played a lot of basketball together, while Kerby and his friends mostly played baseball; the end result was that without even needing to cheat, Spivey and the others were beating Kerby's team handily. They followed a simple and frustrating strategy: Taylor buzzed around the court like a crazed hornet, blocking shots, stealing the ball, and being a pest in his fancy _Olympics_ brand gym shoes.

"How many pairs of those overpriced shoes does that kid own, anyway?" Kerby gasped, at one point.

Spivey used Bull as a shield to screen out the other players, so he could make easy shots. Bull just lumbered after him, seeming to take up half of the court, and ready to stick out a sweaty forearm at anyone trying to get by him. Red Blake and the Simmons boy were largely ignored, until Red finally got the ball. He made a brilliant jumper from the top of the key, and only then did Spivey start passing the ball to him. After that, Red made several great shots, but Spivey and his friends never once offered encouragement or congratulations. Phil Simmons (or was it Will? Or Bill?) just stood there, feebly waving his arms and saying, "Hey. Ball?"

Kerby and Bumps were getting frustrated, and Eddie and Pinky just seemed confused to be playing against the guy they were always taking orders from. Several times they accidentally passed the ball to Red, and eventually they just gave up and stood off to the side, watching the others play.

Fenton never gave up, though. His fine analytical mind was looking for some kind of strategy, trying to analyze the patterns of the other team's play. He noticed that Spivey had several cheap moves; for example, he'd pass the ball between an opponent's legs, making him look foolish. That was perfectly legal, but annoying. Other times he would bounce the ball off an opponent's foot or back to get it to go out of bounds, and it would then be his team's ball. These tactics were of questionable legality, but as Bumps had guessed, Mr. Wallis was so busy watching all of the other teams that he never saw Spivey pull any of his stunts. However, Fenton finally noticed something Spivey did that he thought he could take advantage of.

Spivey would frequently save the ball from going out of bounds by jumping out after the ball, catching it one handed (with his feet in mid-air, so as to not be out of bounds himself), and throwing it back in bounds without looking to see where it was going. So when Bill (or was it Will? Or Phil?) finally got the ball but accidentally dribbled it off his own foot, sending it towards the line where Spivey was standing, Fenton was ready.

As he had done before, Spivey jumped over the side line and caught the ball before he landed. Fenton immediately ran right to where the expected in-bounds throw would come.

Unfortunately, he had not anticipated just how hard Spivey's throw would be. As Fenton watched, time seemed to go in slow motion for a moment, while Spivey floated through the air…grabbed the ball one-handed…cocked his arm…

And suddenly, time returned to normal speed, and Spivey's arm snapped back, catapulting the basketball from his hand right into Fenton's stomach.

Fenton went down without so much as an "Oooof!" because the wind had been knocked out of him. He lay curled up on the dusty gymnasium floor, desperately trying to breathe, as the ball trickled away and into the hands of Red Blake.

"Oooh, tough one, there, Claypool," said Spivey, grinning. Taylor and Bull laughed along with him. "Hey, Blake, take the shot!"

Red just stood there, loosely holding the ball as he looked at Fenton.

"Come on, man, you have an open shot! Forget about Claypool, he'll be all right!"

Red hooked the ball under one arm and bent over to help Fenton get to his feet. Kerby and Bumps, surprised, paused for a moment, then hurried over to help him.

Taylor looked at Spivey, who nodded. The bristly-haired boy ran over and poked the ball out of the crook of Red's arm, grabbed it on the first bounce, and laid it up for a basket. The game buzzer went off, signaling the end of play for the class. Fenton, holding his stomach, finally managed to suck in a couple of gasps of air.

Spivey said, "Woo-hoo, we win, 24-8! _Nice game, guys_." he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

"Why, you—" Fenton managed to shout, and then he jumped Spivey, fists flying!

"Hey! Stop that _right now_!" came the booming voice of Mr. Wallis. The gym teacher came jogging over, his whistle bouncing on his chest. Fenton kept ineffectively flailing at the startled and slightly frightened Spivey, until Bull curled a hamfist into the back of Fenton's t-shirt and pulled him off.

Mr. Wallis took Fenton by the arm. "Thanks for breaking that up, Barnaby," said Mr. Wallis.

"Barnaby?" said Red.

"Listen, Claypool, I saw what happened. You took a basketball to the stomach, lost the game, and tried to take out your anger on Mr. MacIntyre, here. Totally inappropriate! If you weren't so normally well-behaved, I'd have you staying after school!"

Fenton gulped, embarrassed both by his loss of self-control and the idea of being punished. Still, his eyes looked daggers at Spivey, who stood there with an innocent "What did I do?" look on his face.

"I want you guys to apologize to each other right now! I will _not_ have this kind of behavior in this class."

Fenton took a deep breath, and said, through gritted teeth, "Sorry, Spivey."

Just at that moment, the phone in Mr. Wallis' office rang. He gave the boys a final look and trotted away.

Fenton, Kerby, and Bumps watched him go. When they turned around, they saw Spivey, Taylor, and Bull by the double doors leading out of the gym.

"Hey, where's your apology?" Bumps demanded.

Spivey paused and looked back over his shoulder. "Ooops," he said with a grin, and walked away, as his buddies laughed.

Fenton's started to go after the other boys, but Kerby put a hand on his shoulder.

"Remember what you told me after the softball game? He's just trying to rattle you, right? You can use the power of your mind to control yourself, and all that stuff?"

Fenton stopped. For a few moments he stared hard at his friend. Then his face relaxed, and he sighed. "You're right, Kerby, of course. I don't want to be a hypocrite. The mind knows that emotions are choices, and I choose not to let Spivey get to me."

"That's the spirit. Come on, let's go—we've got a race tomorrow!"

Later that afternoon, Kerby walked home from school, deep in thought about the race. How would their go-cart perform? Would the wings and spoiler Bumps had insisted on adding make it too slow or hard to maneuver? What kinds of stunts would the cheaters pull? Would Mrs. Graymalkin's trick be able to even the odds? And what about the other teams?

A distant banging caught Kerby's attention. It was coming from the direction of the clubhouse, so he hurried along to see what was going on. Could someone be doing something to the clubhouse? He had a brief mental image of Bull carrying Taylor sideways, bristly white hair pointing forward, and using him as a battering ram to knock down their clubhouse, while Spivey cheered them on and laughed—

But when Kerby got there, the clubhouse was fine. The noise was coming from the other end of the lot, where Red was working on his own clubhouse. Oh. Kerby had forgotten all about the clubhouse the other boys were building.

And he had to admit, it looked great; the three walls that were in place looked even, and solidly built. And they were tall—shoot, once the clubhouse was done you'd probably be able to stand up in there! And what was that Kerby saw on the back wall, leading upward—was that a staircase? This clubhouse was going to have a _second floor_? Kerby approached, his mouth hanging open.

He came up to Red, who was smiling, evidently enjoying his work. He looked up and said, "Hey."

"Hey," Kerby said. "This is some clubhouse you've got going."

"Pretty sweet, huh?"

"Yeah. How in the world did you know how to do all of this?" Kerby asked, looking in amazement at how all the various planks fit together perfectly. He remembered how his father had once walked him through a house that was being built, and Red's project reminded him of that, although on a smaller scale.

"Well, my dad taught me a lot of stuff. I think he wants me to go to work for him when I get older."

"Do you want to?"

"Yeah, I think so. I'm not much for books, but give me a hammer, and I'm pretty happy."

"Yeah," Kerby said. He wasn't quite sure how to feel now. Here he was, having a normal conversation with Red Blake, whom he and his friends had thought of as The Enemy for a long time. But after the events of the past few days, Kerby was beginning to see Red in a new light. Between their shared frustration over Spivey's cheating, Gay's friendship with Rita, and Kerby's appreciation of Red's hard work in building his clubhouse, Kerby realized that he had far more in common with Red than he had ever thought he could have. Shoot, he didn't even mind sharing the vacant lot with Red and his friends now.

"Hold that up for me, would you?" Red said, indicating a section that made up part of the stairway.

"Yeah, yeah, sure," Kerby said quickly, stepping forward and leaning into the partially finished framework. Red grabbed a handful of nails from his tool belt, stuck them between his teeth, and took one to start hammering. Almost before Kerby could blink, Red quickly finished with the first nail and began pounding away at a second one.

"Thgz oo gat ldgo," he said, after the second nail had been hammered into the supports.

"Huh?" said Kerby.

Red took the rest of the nails out of his mouth. Laughing, he said, "I said, 'Thanks, you can let go.'"

"Oh, right," Kerby said, laughing as well.

"Hey, did you guys come up with a name for your go-cart?" Red asked.

Kerby said, "Well, Bumps did, and Fenton just sort of went along with it."

"So, what is it?"

"Um…"

"Come on, it can't be worse than ours!"

"Oh, yeah? What's yours called?"

"I asked you first."

"Fine. It's the Ardiomanic Wonder."

"What?"

"Ardiomanic Wonder. Bumps seems to have a bit of trouble with the word 'aerodynamic', and he insisted that we use his name, so…"

Red laughed. "Sounds like Bumps, all right. Well, ours is called 'The Blakemobile.' Go ahead and laugh."

Kerby smiled, but he did not laugh. Who was he to laugh at another go-cart's name, when _he_ would be riding in the "Ardiomanic Wonder"?

"The Blakemobile. It was _not_ my idea. My dad insisted, and since he provided the building materials…"

"Gotcha," Kerby said, understanding. Just as Kerby's own father had wanted to be involved with the go-cart building process, Red's dad had probably wanted some level of involvement too, and he had had to be satisfied with putting the family name on the go-cart.

"He wouldn't let me do it all myself, though," Red continued. "He made me let Eddie and Pinky work on it, too. And those guys barely know which end of the hammer to hold, you know? I'm still not sure Pinky got the wheels on right…"

Kerby laughed. Then he looked at his watch. "Oh, man, I gotta run! I'm gonna be late for dinner."

"See you tomorrow in the race, then," Red said. "And remember, we've gotta look out for Spivey and those guys."

"Right."

Kerby headed home quickly, still thinking about the race, but also about how The Enemy had somehow become a friend.

That evening, Gay was staying at the Blakes' house for a sleepover with Rita, so the Maxwell house was quiet. At his mother's insistence, Kerby went up to his bedroom early to make sure he got a good night's sleep before the race.

As he lay in bed, thinking he would never be able to fall asleep, he noticed the book he had checked out of the library, _The Soap-box Derby_, sitting on his bedside table. He picked it up and began reading.

It was an enjoyable story, set in England, about a boy who wanted to win a go-cart race—oops, Soap-box Derby. The prize money would allow him to buy a gentle old donkey named Kitty from an old man who was retiring and no longer needed the donkey to pull his cart. Kerby's favorite parts of the book were the ones describing how the boy built the racer out of an old box and some baby carriage wheels.

Before too long, reading in bed had him feeling sleepy, so he put the book down and turned off the light. Kerby drifted off, and he spent much of the night dreaming happily about zooming around the neighborhood in his go-cart, with the wind in his face and Waldo happily running behind him, barking all the way.

And in his dream, Waldo was _not_ wearing a bow.


	10. Chapter 10

SATURDAY MORNING. Finally, the day of the go-cart race had arrived. The skies were clear, and the autumn air was crisp, smelling faintly of wet leaves. It was the kind of weather that put everybody in a great mood, and Kerby could hardly contain his excitement at the breakfast table. He was talking a mile a minute, saying things like:

"Gosh, I hope we win."

"Do you think our car will be fast enough, Dad?"

"I hope those cheaters don't get away with cheating!"

"Do you think it's safe for Gay to be in this race?"

"I wonder what we'll do with the money if we win."

"I hope Mrs. Graymalkin's trick works, if we wind up having to use it—"

"What's that, Kerby?" his father asked, glancing up from his newspaper.

"Um, never mind," said Kerby.

"Okay, settle down and finish your breakfast, son," Mr. Maxwell said, returning to his paper. "Honey," he said to Mrs. Maxwell with a chuckle, "did you accidentally pour coffee in Kerby's juice glass this morning?"

"Of course not, dear." Mrs. Maxwell said. "Our boy's just excited and full of energy this morning, isn't that right, Kerby?" She tousled his hair affectionately. Kerby was in such a good mood that his mother's behavior didn't bother him a bit. He just said, "Aw, shucks, mom," and blushed.

Kerby turned to father. "When do we leave, Dad?"

"The same time I told you the other three times you asked, Kerby," he said with a smile. "Nine o'clock. We'll load your go-cart into the station wagon, pick up Fenton and Bumps, and head to the park."

"I'll be ready!"

"I'm sure you will, son."

Kerby brought his breakfast dishes to the sink, rinsed them, and put them in the dishwasher. "I'm going upstairs to get dressed," he announced.

"Don't forget to wash your face," his mother said.

"Okay, Mom. Come on, Waldo!" Kerby said, coaxing Waldo along with a bit of bacon he'd saved from breakfast. Waldo bounced after him happily, jumping and nipping at Kerby's outstretched hand.

Kerby dug in the back of his closet, finding the two test tubes containing the formula from the Feats O' Magic Chemistry Set. Fenton had helped pack the tubes so they could be safely (and secretly!) brought to the race. Their homemade carrier was simply two small pieces of cardboard lined with foam packing material, then taped together. Kerby slipped the package into his jacket's inside pocket and headed back downstairs.

It seemed that all of Middleton had shown up to watch the race that morning. Kerby recognized several of his neighbors, teachers from his school, and shopkeepers from town in the crowd. He craned his neck to see if he could spot Mrs. Graymalkin, but he could not see her anywhere.

Since the race was to begin at the top of the sledding hill, a kind of tow-rope had been set up to get the go-carts to the starting line. Soon, all five go-carts were in a row, making for an interesting line-up:

The Simmons triplets' go-cart was painted fire-engine red and shaped like a narrow triangle, with a single seat in the front for the driver and two seats in the back for the other riders. Kerby wondered if their go-cart would have a cool name like "The Triple Threat", but no, the name "Simmons" ran along the length of their go-cart, in plain black lettering. Phil, Will, and Bill were, as always, dressed alike: each wore jeans and a red t-shirt with "SIMMONS" on the back.

Gay and Rita's appearance had brought a surprised gasp from the crowd. Not only were they only girls in the race, but their third rider was a doll with a little sign reading "Waldo Junior" around its neck. And while the other go-carts all looked solid but plain, Stylin' Speed shone like a green gem in the morning sunlight. The girls received a friendly cheer when they pulled up to the starting line, and they waved to the crowd, smiling brightly.

The Ardiomanic Wonder looked respectable enough, even with its useless wings and spoiler. At least it was the only go-cart with an actual steering wheel. Bumps sat in the front, followed by Fenton and then Kerby.

The Blakemobile didn't look as cleverly designed as The Ardiomanic Wonder, but it was the most solidly built of all of the entries. Its simple shape, combined with the brand new wood that had been expertly cut by Red, made for an impressive look. "Blakemobile" had been burned into both sides of the go-cart, apparently by Red's father using a wood-burning kit. Kerby chuckled to himself as he noticed that Red kept hanging a foot outside the go-cart in an attempt to cover up the name. Red sat in the front, followed by Eddie Mumford and Pinky Marshall.

The Cheaters' Club had built a rather plain-looking go-cart. The front of the go-cart was large and box-like, and the whole thing was painted black, with "Lightning Strike" in yellow letters on the sides. Bull sat in the front, followed by Spivey and Taylor.

The mayor, speaking through a public address system, said in a booming voice, "Ladies and gentlemen! Welcome to the first annual Middleton Go-Cart Race!"

Cheers went up from the crowd.

"We have five fine entries here today, and they've got a challenging race ahead of them," he continued. "This is not just a simple downhill race, no sir-ee. It mostly consists of level sections, on which the riders will have to take turns pushing their go-carts. That's why we decided on having three riders per go-cart—to spread the work out a little more. Still, it will be a long race, and each team will have to pace itself to make it through the entire course."

The mural created by Mrs. Waverly's art class had brought to the park and hung over a large sign. The mayor gestured to it. "We'll start at the top of this hill, of course. The race will proceed through the parking lot, around the administration building, along the creek, and through the wooded park. The home stretch will be the long section of Kansas Drive where the new houses are going in. After that, it's over a final hill and down into the center of town for the finish line. Is everybody ready?"

The crowd roared enthusiastically. Kerby's stomach suddenly felt filled with butterflies. Fenton looked back at him and grinned. Bumps shifted around in his seat, looking a bit uncomfortable.

"All right now—here we go!" the mayor said, pulling out a starter's pistol from his sport coat. "When this pistol goes off, the teams can push off and start down the hill, and the first annual Middleton Go-Cart Race will begin!"

Bumps shifted again and let out an audible groan.

"What's wrong, Bumps?" asked Fenton.

"Just a bit nervous, that's all. And…maybe I shouldn't have had root beer for breakfast…"

"_READY!" _shouted the mayor. All of the teams put their feet on the ground, ready for the push-off. Bumps groaned again.

"_SET!"_ the mayor said, pistol pointed straight up. The race was about to begin. Kerby held the sides of the go-cart tightly.

"_BRAAAAAAAPPPPPP!"_

Everybody turned and stared at Bumps. "Ugh, that's better," he said. He saw everybody staring at him and turned bright red.

"Oh, and I suppose _you_ never had to burp," he said.

"Um, yes, let's try this again," said the mayor. "_READY…SET…GO!_" The starter's pistol went off with a loud crack, and the race was on!

The teams pushed off, and the five go-carts lurched forward and then quickly picked up speed as they started down the steep sledding hill. For a moment, they were all even, and then Lightning Strike pulled into the lead, followed by The Ardiomanic Wonder.

The cars went faster and faster down the hill as they gained momentum.

"Rita…" said Gay nervously. "I don't like this!"

"We're fine, Gay! Just hang on tight!"

"I want to use the brakes!"

"No, don't do that, we'll lose momentum! We're already behind because our go-cart doesn't weigh nearly as much as the others!"

"Ooooh…."

"Come on, you can do it, just hang on, Gay! We're close to the bottom of the hill!"

"Okay…" Gay shut her eyes and gripped the sides of Stylin' Speed tightly.

The five go-carts rumbled loudly down the hill, wearing ruts into the grass. Faster and faster they went, until…_zoom!_ They hit the level parking lot, and the rumble of twenty wheels grew louder as they left the grass for the asphalt of the parking lot.

"Look out, Bumps!" Kerby yelled, as the Ardiomanic Wonder headed straight for a traffic cone. Though Bumps was clumsy on his feet, he handled the steering wheel expertly, swerving around the cone and staying right behind the Lightning Strike.

The Blakemobile had maneuvered into third place behind the Ardiomanic Wonder, and the Simmons triplets fell in behind Red's team. Gay and Rita were last, not having been able to build up much speed going downhill.

The go-carts raced through the parking lot, still going quickly. As they headed for the sidewalk around the large, round park district building, a small dip gave them an extra boost. As the path followed the wide sidewalk curving around the building, the Ardiomanic Wonder pulled closer to the Lightning Strike, its left front tire just behind the other's right rear tire.

Taylor looked over his shoulder and saw Kerby and his friends close behind. He quickly turned back around and shouted, "Now!"

Spivey quickly jerked his go-cart to the right. The bump was perfectly aimed, and Bumps, caught off-guard, nearly had the steering wheel wrenched out of his grip. The Ardiomanic Wonder was knocked sideways, and it spun off the sidewalk over a plastic edging barrier! It skidded into a low hedge and stopped, one wheel stuck in the prickly foliage.

"Hey!" Bumps yelled as the Lightning Strike zoomed on. "You can't do that!" But the Cheaters were long gone, and the other go-carts shot past the stalled Ardiomanic Wonder. Gay and Rita stared in shock as they passed.

"C'mon, Kerby, get out and push!" Bumps ordered. Kerby hopped out and yanked angrily at the stuck go-cart, freeing it from the hedge. He shoved it back onto the sidewalk, got behind it, and started pushing for all he was worth. They had lost all of their momentum and now had to play catch-up with the others, and so early in the race! How would they make it through the entire route, if they had to use up their energy on what was supposed to be an easy section of the course?

The racers finally made it around the building, and the sidewalk widened and leveled off. One member of each team got out and started pushing. Kerby quickly caught up to and passed Rita, who was pushing Stylin' Speed.

As he passed the girls, Kerby hear Rita say to Gay, panting, "Okay…maybe…we should have found…a third person to push…I don't think…Waldo Junior is going…to help…that…much…"

Gay said, "But he weighs practically nothing, and he's so cute…" Kerby shook his head and pushed on.

Back at the front of the race, the path was now running parallel to the creek that ran through town. Bull was pushing the Lightning Strike, still in the lead; Eddie Mumford was behind him but slowly losing ground, pushing the Blakemobile.

Spivey, now sitting in the back seat, turned and quickly looked around for any potential witnesses. Then he tossed a large bag of marbles over Bull's meaty back. The bag practically exploded on the ground, and the marbles went all over the path. Eddie Mumford, his head down as he pushed, never saw them. He put his foot down on the glassy orbs, and with a _zip!_ he fell to the ground, skinning his knees and losing his left shoe. Now it was Red's turn to yell, "HEY!" at the cheaters. Spivey smirked and turned back around as the Lightning Strike raced along the creek.

Meanwhile, Phil (or was it Will? Or Bill?) Simmons, who had seen Eddie slip, sidestepped the marbles and ran on. The triplets were now in second place, followed by the Ardiomanic Wonder. The Blakemobile was not far behind with the speedy Red now pushing for all he was worth.

Gay and Rita now realized that they would have to pace themselves carefully, since they were younger than the other racers, and there were only two of them. Hoping that the other teams would tire themselves out quickly fighting for the lead in their much heavier go-carts, the girls took it easy while pushing the lightweight and aerodynamic Stylin' Speed, content with last place for the time being. Rita shouted over her shoulder, "If we're careful, we might have just enough energy left at the end of the race to pass everyone else!" Gay, now pushing, just nodded, saving her breath.

The course now led into the park. The winding path zigged and zagged around the trees, and the Lightning Strike had to slow down on the curves, which allowed the Simmons' go-cart to catch up a bit. Will (or was it Phil? Or Bill?) watched Spivey and his friends closely. As the Lightning Strike left the winding paths and entered the dark, thickly wooded section of the park, he saw Taylor turn around and tap Bull on the shoulder, who nodded.

The Simmons triplets bravely shot into the dark woods. In an attempt to make up ground, they had uncorked their secret weapon: the triangular shape of their go-cart allowed them to have two people pushing while running side-by-side behind the wide rear end. Phil (or was it Bill? Or Will?), in the front seat, looked away from the path for just a moment as he asked his brothers, "Hey, isn't there supposed to be a hairpin turn in here somewhere?"

Bill and Will (or was it Phil and Will? Or Bill and Phil?) said together, "I thought _you_ memorized the map…hey, what's that? Look out!"

They suddenly found themselves plunging into a thick red cloud of smoke that covered the entire path. Just at that moment, the path veered sharply to the left, but the boys, unable to see in the billowing cloud, missed the turn. Before they could blink, their go-cart went off into the trees and slammed into a large tree stump. The pointed front of the go-cart bit into the bark as they were all thrown into a heap in the brush.

The boys were stunned for a moment but basically unharmed. They looked at each other and said as one, "What _was_ that?" Then they looked at the go-cart they had carefully built together. The impact had broken the front axle, and several boards in the structure were cracked. Phil, Bill, and Will Simmons regarded the wreckage and shook their heads sadly. There was no way they could continue the race.

Meanwhile, Fenton was pushing the Ardiomanic Wonder into the woods. Kerby was in the front seat, trying to catch his breath. Bumps sat behind him, squinting into the dark, as if it would somehow help him see better. "We should've put headlights on this thing," he said.

The boys passed the spot where the Simmons triplets had been knocked out of the race. "What happened to them?" said Kerby.

"Don't know," said Fenton, as he pushed. "Bet…I know…who's 'sponsible, though!"

Farther along the path, the Cheaters' Club had stopped. Spivey held up a three-foot iron bar. It was painted black and almost invisible in the low light.

"Look at this—it's perfect!" he said. "They'll never see it. I knew it was a good idea to keep that leftover section of the metal dowel we were cutting for our axles! We'll just drop it right here, maybe a little off to the side. There. Cover the far side with some leaves, Bull…"

Fenton pushed a little faster, calculating that he could go another ten seconds or so before he had to switch out. "Come on," he told himself, "you can do it! Mind over matter…faster…just a bit more…"

Kerby was watching the path carefully, looking for some sign of the Lightning Strike. Suddenly he heard a thud and the steering wheel spun violently in his hands! Kerby winced as his right wrist was twisted painfully downward. The right front wheel of the Ardiomanic Wonder was stuck on the metal rod dropped by the Cheaters' Club, and the go-cart spun violently. Fenton stumbled as his momentum carried him forward. He tripped over a rock in the path and went down awkwardly, grabbing his ankle in pain.

Then things went from bad to worse. The Ardiomanic Wonder, having spun one hundred and eighty degrees, was now free of the obstacle and flew off the path backwards, heading for an opening in the trees.

If the go-cart had been a little bit to the left or right, it would have run into a tree and stopped. But as luck would have it, the Ardiomanic Wonder just managed to find a gap between the trees and keep sailing right down a hill!

Fenton quickly got up, grimacing in pain as he hobbled to the side of the path. He watched in disbelief as the Ardiomanic Wonder flew down the hill backwards, picking up speed all the way. Bumps' knuckles were white as he clung desperately to the steering wheel, while Kerby's face was frozen in fear. The hill looked impossibly steep, practically vertical. Faster and faster they went, until…

"Look out!" cried Fenton.

With a splash followed by a squishy, muddy sound, the go-cart finally came to a stop, half-submerged in the muck of the Middleton Marsh.


	11. Chapter 11

"HEY! ARE YOU GUYS OK?" Fenton yelled down.

"Yeah," said Bumps. He turned around to Kerby. "You okay, Kerby? Hey, is the Ardiomanic Wonder okay?"

Kerby said, "I think so, but—yuck! We're in a swamp!" He climbed out of the go-cart. "I think we're stuck in the mud."

"Well, that does it. We're outta the race," Bumps said gloomily. "Even if we get unstuck, how are we going to get back up that hill? And we'll never catch up to those darn cheaters!"

Kerby couldn't thing of anything to say. It looked as though Bumps was right. All of their hard work, all of the anticipation before the race—it was all for nothing, just because they hit a rock in the road or something. "Of all the dumb luck…" he said.

"I don't think it was dumb luck," said Fenton grimly. He was carefully picking his way down the hill, steadying himself with some kind of black walking stick.

"Whattya mean?" said Bumps.

"Look what I found on the ground," said Fenton, reaching the bottom of the hill. He held up an iron bar.

"What is that?"

"Something our 'friends' left for us in the path, I think. It was probably mostly hidden under leaves, but it was heavy enough to catch our wheel. And I bet they had no idea just how effective it would be. If they saw how their little trap sent us all the way down here, they'd be tickled pink!"

"Why, those dirty so-and-so's!" fumed Bumps. "When I get my hands on them, I'm not gonna tickle 'em…I'm gonna give each of 'em an extra special super-duper nose twist!"

From the path above came the sound one of the other go-carts rumbling on past. The boys looked at each other dejectedly.

"Well, we have to get out of here," Kerby said, looking around the marsh without much hope. "And how in the world are we going to do that?"

"I think you know," said Fenton.

"What do you mean, Fenton? I—oh, yeah!" Kerby felt in his jacket pocket. The homemade test tube carrier was still there. "But Fenton—Bumps is right here…"

"What are you guys talking about?" said Bumps.

"Kerby, I think it's time for Bumps to find out about our eccentric friend from the park."

"Huh?" said Bumps.

Kerby looked shocked. "Are you sure, Fenton?"

"Yes, I'm sure. If we keep using the chemistry set, he'll probably figure it out sooner or later, anyway."

"Yes, but—"

"But nothing! What are you guys talking about?" Bumps demanded. "What's this about an egg salad friend from the park?"

"Um, that's 'eccentric', Bumps," said Fenton.

"Whatever. All I know is, I don't like sneaky people, and you guys are acting sneaky right now. So, I'm gonna ask you one more time: _what are you talkin' about?_"

His eyebrows raised, Fenton looked at Kerby, who shrugged with resignation. Fenton turned back to Bumps and said, "Okay, Bumps, here's the story. It all started a couple of summers back when we were in the church pageant…"

Fenton gave Bumps a quick explanation of how Kerby had helped Mrs. Graymalkin in the park, and how she had given him the Feats O' Magic Chemistry Set; and how some of the experiments with the set, like the Lemonade Trick and the Baseball Trick, had resulted in a number of their adventures.

"Are you serious? You're telling me you believe in _magic_?" Bumps said incredulously.

"No, no, it's just called 'Feats O' Magic' for the fun of it," Fenton said quickly.

"I sometimes think it's magic," said Kerby. "And sometimes I think Mrs. Graymalkin's a witch. But a _good_ witch, not a bad one—"

"It's science, not magic!" Fenton insisted. "Sheesh, just because we don't understand something doesn't mean it's magic, Kerby! That's really just a word people use when they can't explain something. Anyway, this latest trick—let's call it The Go-Cart Trick—is our way back into the race. Kerby?"

Kerby carefully pulled out the test tube carrier and opened it up.

"A little bit of this on each of the back wheels should start them spinning, hopefully with enough power to get us back to the path and through the woods so we can catch the Lightning Strike."

Bumps looked doubtfully at the test tubes half filled with liquid. "Are you kiddin' me?"

"No, I'm not, Bumps. Come on, help me get the Ardiomanic Wonder out of this muck."

In a minute, the boys were all seated in the go-cart. Fenton turned around, held the uncorked test tubes over the rear wheels of the go-cart and said, "Hang on, guys—this is some powerful stuff."

"I don't believe this," said Bumps. "I hope nobody's watching."

Fenton carefully poured a small amount of the formula onto the wheels of the go-cart. He quickly re-corked the tubes and said, "Hang on!"

They all hung on tightly, even Bumps, staring up at the top of the hill, some thirty feet above.

And nothing happened.

"What's going on?" Kerby said from the front seat. "Why aren't we moving?"

"I don't know," Fenton said, confused. "It worked before, on the baby carriage."

"Baby carriage? This is just goofy," said Bumps. "Let's just push this thing back up the hill ourselves. Maybe we can get back in time to see the Cheaters' Club get the seventy-five dollar prize…"

"No, wait! I think I have it!" Fenton said, pulling his t-shirt off.

Bumps said, "Hey, what are you doing, Tarzan? We're in the marsh, not the jungle! Are you crazy or something? You been sniffing those chemicals from the chemistry set too long?"

"It's the wheels!" Fenton said. "They're too wet from the marsh water for the formula to work!" Fenton hopped out and started drying the wheels with his t-shirt, which quickly became soaked and covered with mud. "Come on, help me out, guys! Lift the go-cart so I can get the bottom of the wheels dry, too!"

Kerby and Bumps got out of the Ardiomanic Wonder and picked it up. Fenton frantically spun the wheels while holding his t-shirt against them. "Come on, come on!" he said. His t-shirt was soon covered with mud and dirty marsh water.

"Okay, that should do it! Set it down on that dry section over there, and make sure it's pointing straight toward that gap in the trees we came down through!"

Bumps sighed and looked at Kerby, as if to say, "Can you believe this?"

Kerby said, "Come on, Bumps, let's do it. Maybe drying the wheels will do the trick, uh, no pun intended." He smiled weakly. But he himself wondered whether the formula would work. Sure, they had tested it successfully, but that was three days ago. What if it had lost its power while the test tubes lay hidden in Kerby's garage? Mrs. Graymalkin never said anything about how long the stuff would keep…

"Ready? Well, here we go," said Fenton, looking a bit unsure of himself as he hopped into the back seat. He slipped his dirty t-shirt back on, grimacing as he pulled it over his head.

"Yeah, here we go again," Bumps muttered to Kerby as they climbed in.

As before, Fenton turned around and carefully poured the formula onto the back wheels of the go-cart. He quickly turned around and re-corked the test tubes.

_And the wheels started spinning!_

Drying out the tires seemed to have done the trick. The Ardiomanic Wonder was steadily climbing the hill, and picking up speed as it went! Bumps, thinking Fenton had stepped out to push the go-cart, did a double-take. "Fenton, what are you doing, you can't push us all the—hey! It worked!"

"Just keep us aimed at that opening in the trees, Bumps," Fenton said with a grin.

"Good ol' Mrs. Graymalkin!" Kerby shouted joyfully. "We'll be back in this race before you know it!"

"We'll see," Fenton said soberly. "We still have a long way to catch up. I hate to say it, but the cheaters—or any of the other teams—could have already finished the race by now."

With that, the boys grimly faced forward, heading for the top of the hill. It was only ten feet away…five feet…and then they were back on the path—but going the wrong way!

"Turn us around, Bumps!" shouted Kerby.

Bumps spun the wheel and the Ardiomanic Wonder did a complete U-turn, throwing orange-and-brown leaves into the air. The go-cart went faster and faster, and Kerby stuck his head out to the side to feel the cool fall air in his face. He laughed, "Woo-hoo! This is great! I feel like Waldo with his head out the car window when we go out for a drive in the country! Ha-ha-ha…_ulp!_" A swarm of gnats had just hit him in the face.

The boys made excellent time, flying along the path as the wheels of the Ardiomanic Wonder spun wildly.

"This is the end of the forest path!" Fenton shouted over the roaring of the wheels. They finished the final section of the path, a one-hundred yard straightaway, in just under seven seconds…and then they were out in the sunshine again. The park exit was just ahead!

As they approached the narrow strip of asphalt that led out of the park, the boys felt the Ardiomanic Wonder shudder. Bumps looked down at the wheels. "Hey, what gives?"

"I think the formula has worn off," Fenton said.

"Well, quick, put some more on!" Kerby said.

"I don't think that would be a very good idea," Fenton said.

"Why not? Don't you wanna catch up to those rotten cheaters and have a shot at winning this race?" Bumps demanded.

"Of course, but we're almost out of the park. This place is pretty isolated, but who knows who could be watching once we get to the home stretch? It would be pretty ironic if someone saw us using the formula and _we_ got disqualified for cheating!"

"Yeah, I guess you're right," Kerby said, and Bumps grunted assent.

So Kerby got out and pushed the Ardiomanic Wonder over the little ramp of asphalt that led out of the park and onto the deserted street where the new houses were being built.

As the boys reached the street, they heard loud yelling coming from across the way. As they got closer, they saw Red, Eddie, and Pinky standing around the Blakemobile, which appeared to be stuck in the wet cement of a new sidewalk. One of its wheels had fallen off, and two more of them were bent backwards on their axles. Red was hollering at Pinky, who looked as though he was about to cry.

"I told you to let me do the wheels! Or at least let me help!" Red shouted. "All it took was this hitting this wet cement, and they're ruined! What are we going to do now?"

"Sorry, Red," Pinky said in a small voice.

"What happened to you guys?" Fenton said.

Red looked up. "You guys are still in the race?"

"Just barely," said Kerby. "The cheaters sabotaged the track and sent us down a hill! We just made it back. What about you, though?"

"We were starting to catch up, and then we fell for the old Road Runner trick."

"The Road Runner trick?"

"You know, from the old Road Runner cartoons. Wile E. Coyote is trying to catch the Road Runner, so he paints traffic lines on the road that lead right into a wall or something like that. Well, those cheaters used some traffic cones they found over there and made it look like we were supposed to go this way. We thought the cones were put out by the people in charge of the race, so we followed them…right into this freshly-poured sidewalk! Nearly ripped the darn wheels off!"

"Geez, Red, that's awful!" said Fenton.

"And look! They haven't even finished the race! They're way down there at the end of the street, just standing there, waving and laughing at us!"

Kerby, Fenton, and Bumps all looked. Sure enough, the members of the Cheaters' Club were all standing around the Lightning Strike, mockingly beckoning anyone to try and catch them.

"They got some nerve!" Bumps said. "They know they're gonna win, and they're just standing there like a bunch of goofs!"

"Well, this is just great," said Kerby, looking at the Blakemobile. "We hoped _somebody_ would have been able to catch those jerks."

"Well, your car isn't stuck—go get them!" Red said.

"No chance," says Bumps. "Fenton has a bad ankle, Kerby's gassed from pushing us twice and has a bad wrist, and I'm too slow to catch them. Look how far ahead those guys are!"

Red looked off in the distance for a moment, as if turning some thought over in his mind. Then he looked at Kerby, Fenton, and Bumps and said something that surprised them all.

"What do you say I be your third man?"

"_What_?" the boys said together.

"Look—I'm pretty fast. Maybe they'll do something stupid and we'll be able to catch them."

"I don't know about this…" said Bumps, shaking his head.

"Come on, it's a small chance, but it's better than nothing. You can't just give up!"

Bumps looked at Fenton. Fenton looked at Kerby. Kerby looked at Red, who gave him an encouraging nod.

"I think we should do it," said Kerby. "Bumps, you weigh more than Fenton and me. Why don't you let Red take your place? With just us two in the go-cart, Red will be able to go even faster."

"Okay, I guess so. But I wanna do one thing first, speaking of making things lighter."

Bumps walked around to the left side of the go-cart and grabbed the "wing" attached there. He gave it a mighty yank and pulled it off. He went to the rear of the go-cart and pried the spoiler loose. Finally, he removed the wing from the right side of the go-cart.

Kerby and Fenton looked at him in disbelief.

"I don't think these are helping," Bumps said. We need a lightweight car now, not an ard—ardio—aerodynamic one. Now go on and beat those cheaters!"

Red stepped behind the Ardiomanic (?) Wonder and said, "You guys ready?"

"Ready!" said Kerby and Fenton.

"Then hang on!" said Red, and he started pushing.

Near the end of the course, the Cheaters were laughing at the boys trying to get back in the race.

"Can you believe them?" said Spivey, stretching in the morning sun. "They actually think they've got a chance at catching us."

"Yeah," said Taylor, looking up after casually smelling a rose bush. "We'll let 'em get just close enough to let 'em think they _maybe_ have a shot at it, and then we'll just get back in the Lightning Strike, scoot over this last little hill, and beat 'em—like we _always_ do!"

"Yeah, huh-huh, huh-huh," said Bull, not having anything else to add to the conversation.

Red was pushing valiantly, but he was slowing down as he tired. "We close?" he managed to pant, as his feet pounded the newly paved street.

"Well…" said Fenton, not wanting to discourage him.

"Look, they're waving at us!" said Fenton. "What? They're cheering us on, all of a sudden?"

Kerby said, "_Pffft_. They're just teasing us. They're a quarter mile away at least—they know they're too far ahead for us to catch up. They want to make it just close enough that we'll think we could maybe win, then all they have to do is hop in their stupid Cheatermobile and go up that stupid little hill and then coast down across the stupid finish line. And everyone in the whole town will think they won, fair and square!"

Red, now barely moving faster than a walking pace, suddenly looked up. "I don't think so!" he said defiantly, and he pushed harder than ever, tapping into his last reserves of strength.

And then something amazing happened.

Perhaps the formula hadn't really worn off. Maybe some residual water on the wheels had just temporarily shut it down, and the warm pavement on this last stretch of the race had finally dried them off completely, reactivating the formula.

Or maybe there was just a little "oomph" left in the formula, and Red's last burst of effort had spun the wheels just quickly enough to restart it.

Whatever the reason was, the wheels on the Ardiomanic Wonder had started spinning again!

"Hey!" said Red, woozily. "What's going on here?"

"Just hop in, Red!" said Kerby. "Um, there must've been a dip in the road we didn't see!"

With an athletic leap, Red hopped into the moving go-cart. It continued to accelerate until they were rocketing along with the wind whipping their faces. Before they knew it they were quickly approaching the spot where the Cheaters' Club was sitting on the ground next to the Lightning Strike, playing cards!

Spivey, Bull, and Taylor saw them coming and panicked. The cards went flying, and immediately they were scrambling over each other, trying to get back into their go-cart. Taylor ran into Bull, and Spivey fell over them both.

"Come on, come on, come on!" screamed Spivey. "Bull, get us over this hill, _NOW!_"

Bull put his considerable bulk to work, his tree trunk legs driving into the pavement as he pushed the Lightning Strike up the twenty-foot hill.

And just at that moment, the formula seemed to stop working. It had finally spun itself out. Kerby hopped out, having recovered somewhat over the last few minutes, and pushed doggedly, using his left hand and his right forearm, since his wrist was still throbbing.

Both go-carts reached the top of the hill at the same time. Bull and Kerby each gave a final, desperate shove, sending the Lightning Strike and the Ardiomanic Wonder down the slope that represented the final thirty feet of the race.

At the bottom of the hill, hundreds of people were gathered, waving and cheering as the go-carts headed for the finish line. The cars were neck-and-neck…

…Fenton gritted his teeth, trying to keep the Ardiomanic Wonder on a perfectly straight path to the finish line…

…Spivey, fully aware that he might finally lose at something, and in front of all of those people, leaned forward, a crazed expression on his face…

"It's gonna be a close one!" a voice from the crowd shouted.

"Get those cameras ready! It's going to be a photo finish!" said another.

From where he was standing, Kerby couldn't see who was ahead. He started running down the hill after the go-carts, waving his arms and yelling, "Come on, come on!"

The mayor and half a dozen other town officials were stationed right at the finish line. Two more officials were on ladders looking down, cameras in hand, and they had the perfect view as the go-carts reached the finish line…

…and by six inches, the Ardiomanic Wonder got there first!

The identity of the winning car quickly spread through the crowd, and cheers went up. Kerby couldn't believe it!

_They had finally defeated the Cheaters' Club!_

Fenton and Red stood up and shook hands, grinning widely. Spivey sat in disbelief, his head in his hands.

The Mayor stood up and addressed the crowd through the PA system. "Ladies and gentlemen! Let me be the first to congratulate the winners of the first annual Middleton Go-cart Race and the seventy-five dollar prize—the drivers of the, um, Ardiomanic Wonder: Bumps Burton, Fenton Claypool, and Kerby Maxwell!" The crowd roared, especially the people who knew Kerby and his friends.

"Wait a minute!" Spivey suddenly said in a sneering voice. Everybody turned and looked at him.

"They switched riders! That's against the rules!"

_Oh, no!_ thought Kerby. _He's right! We did—but it was because of his cheating that we had to do it!_

"Is that so?" said the mayor, eyeing Fenton.

"Yes, sir," began Fenton, "but—"

"Well, then, I believe we have a new winner!" he said. "Ladies and gentlemen, the winners of the race and the seventy-five dollar prize, are the drivers of the Lightning Strike: Spivey MacIntyre, Taylor VonNewhauer, and Barnaby "Bull" Clodsky!"

It was like a nightmare come to life. After everything Kerby and his friends had gone through to overcome the nasty tricks the Cheaters had pulled to win the race, _this_ was the final result? Kerby grabbed Fenton's shoulders and tried to say something, but his mouth just opened and closed over and over, wordlessly. Fenton and Red looked similarly dumbstruck.

"Mr. Mayor! Mr. Mayor! Just a moment, please!" a voice rang out from nearby. Kerby recognized Mrs. Larson, the lady from the village hall.

"Yes, yes, what is it, Delores?" the mayor said, getting slightly miffed at the repeated interruptions.

"Those boys cheated! I saw it!"

Spivey looked shocked. He had _never_ been caught cheating by an adult! Bull and Taylor looked at him nervously. "Wh-what are you talking about?" he stammered.

"Yeah, we didn't see anyone—mmfffph!" Bull said, getting a hand clamped over his mouth by Spivey.

"I was in my office earlier this morning, catching up on some paperwork. I happened to glance out the window just as the children came racing around the building. And that's when those boys deliberately bumped the car behind them, knocking them off the path!"

"What? That's a lie! We never—"

An elderly gentleman stepped forward, interrupting Spivey. "I saw them, too, those young hooligans! I was fishing along the creek, and I looked up just in time to see them drop a bag of marbles to make the other kids trip!"

"No! We didn't!" Spivey said, an edge of panic creeping into his voice.

"And what about the smoke screen in the park woods?" said Will (or was it Bill? Or Phil?) Simmons. He held up a handful of expired red smoke bombs. "They dropped a bunch of these things and made us crash!"

"Nothin' doin', you liar!" said Bull, walking aggressively towards the triplets.

"Hold it right there, sonny," said Officer Harrison, putting a hand on Bull's shoulder. "You watch yourself, young man."

Bull tried to jerk away from the big policeman's grip, but all he managed to do was pull himself out of his jacket. As he did so, three red smoke bombs fell out of the pocket.

"Who's lying, now?" Kerby muttered with a grin, as the mayor picked up the smoke bombs and saw they matched the ones the Simmons triplets had shown.

"And here's another thing," Fenton said, holding up the black metal bar that had caused them so much trouble in the woods. "They left this right in the path. You can clearly see it's cut from the same piece of metal as their front axle." He held one end of it to the end of the Lightning Strike's front axle, and sure enough, the uneven ends of the metal bars fit together perfectly.

"Our go-cart ran right into it, and it caught a wheel, making me hurt my ankle and Kerby sprain his wrist!"

At this, the crowd started getting angry. Various shouts of things like "Throw 'em in the slammer!" and "What kind of parents raised kids like that?" could be heard.

Spivey, Taylor, and Bull seemed to shrink into themselves.

"I saw them, too!" said Mr. Nelson, the construction worker. I was working on a house in the new development, and I saw those boys messing around with the traffic cones and divert the Blake boy's go-cart right into sidewalk that had just been poured—and now has to be re-poured, I might add!"

"Well, folks," the mayor said, addressing the crowd again, "it's obvious that these boys did not play fair in the race and must be disqualified. You are _not_ the winners of the first annual Middleton Go-cart Race!"

"Finally!" Kerby said aloud. "Those cheaters finally got what was coming to them!" He high-fived Fenton and Red, and then Bumps, who had just joined them.

Spivey was looking back and forth, as if looking to escape the crowd. His wild eyes finally landed on Kerby, who was grinning at him from ear to ear.

"Oops," Kerby said.

Spivey's face turned bright red and he turned around and kicked the Lightning Strike as hard as he could.

A side panel fell off the go-cart, and everyone could plainly see the small electric motor that had been hidden inside!

"So that's how they got so far ahead!" Kerby exclaimed.

The crowd exploded in outrange again, and the mayor harummphed right into his microphone, scaring several small dogs.

"Well, everybody," he began. "I'm afraid we have no winner for this event. A terrible turn of events, I do say…"

Somebody yelled, "We want a winner! We want a winner!" The rest of the crowd picked it up as a chant: "We want a winner! We want a winner! We want a winner!"

"I'm sorry," the mayor said. "It seems that all of the teams were disqualified or unable to finish the race. We can't award a winner unless somebody actually crosses that finish line without breaking the rules, intentionally or not!"

"Hey! Don't forget about us!" came a shrill voice.

Everybody turned to look. Smiling proudly, Gay and Rita, sitting tall in Stylin' Speed, began coasting from the top of the hill down to the finish line. They crossed it and stopped neatly as Gay applied the brake.

All was quiet for a moment. Then the mayor gave a happier sounding harummph, scaring only a few dogs this time, and said, "Ladies and gentlemen! I believe we finally have a winner! The first prize of seventy-five dollars and the honor of winning the first annual Middleton go-cart race, go to the drivers of Stylin' Speed: Rita Blake, Gay Stevens, and..." He consulted his notes. "Waldo Junior?"

"Gaaaa—" Kerby started to say. But then he just laughed, and somewhere in the crowd, he heard a familiar cackle.


	12. Chapter 12

THINGS WERE NEVER quite the same for the Cheaters' Club after that day. Everybody, child and adult alike, watched them _very_ carefully, and they had no chance to break the rules on the playground, in class, or anywhere.

A couple of weeks later, Taylor and his family moved away when Mr. VonNewhauer's company transferred him to a different office. Taylor, his fancy _Olympics_, and his bristly white hair were gone.

With only the slow-witted Bull left as a partner in crime, Spivey gave up trying to cheat at everything. Defeated and humiliated, he just tried to fade into the background. He was able to do this for the most part; however, now whenever a kid was caught cheating at a game on the playground, he or she was chided for trying to "pull a Spivey".

Bull, no longer hanging out with Spivey, looked for something new to do and wound up joining the football team, where he gradually became accepted by Bumps, and eventually, the other kids. Kerby, Fenton, and Bumps reached an understanding with Red and his friends, and they decided to merge clubs, with Fenton as the elected president.

As they were putting the finishing touches on their new clubhouse—Red had shown them a lot about carpentry over the last couple of weeks—Rita and Gay strolled in.

"Remember what you promised to Dad, big brother?"

"Huh? What?" Red said as he looked up from a board he was measuring. The other boys turned to look at the girls as well.

"Don't you remember? He said he'd let you build a clubhouse and even give you the supplies to do it, as long as…"

Red groaned. "Oh man, I forgot. Guys, it looks like we'll be sharing our space."

Kerby watched Gay and Rita flit about the clubhouse like happy little butterflies.

"…and we'll add some pretty curtains over here…"

"…and we can set up a cute little table over there, so we can have tea parties with Waldo Junior…"

Kerby bit his lip for just a moment…and then he smiled.

THE END


End file.
